


Let Me Protect You

by BarelyAWriter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Aged-Up Character(s), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Coming of Age, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Romance Happens After Hermione Becomes an Adult, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Slow Burn, Teacher-Student Relationship, Time Turner (Harry Potter), marriage law
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-24 00:01:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 105,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23033596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarelyAWriter/pseuds/BarelyAWriter
Summary: Dumbledore decides at the start of her fourth year that Hermione will be instrumental in aiding the war effort. Using her time-turner she might just manage to find the time to make his plans work, but she will come to need the guidance from her growing friendship with Snape. Disrupted by a marriage law in her sixth year, how will events unfold? A story with a slow burn romance.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 86
Kudos: 365





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing fan-fiction - or any story in fact. I've been a huge fan of SSxHG stories for the last 8 years, and I've wanted to write something of my own for a long time, but I'm only just getting round to it! I thought I would combine a couple of my favourite tropes to make a story that I always wanted to read. 
> 
> This story will involve time-turner use to age-up Hermione, and she will be an adult by the time a relationship begins. There will be a Marriage Law that takes place during the later chapters. This story begins at the start of Hermione's fourth year at Hogwarts, and it will be a 'Coming of Age' story for her, as we follow her from 15-going-on-16 into adulthood. The romance is a slow burner.
> 
> I encourage anyone to leave me a review with their thoughts and any constructive feedback. This story is important to me and I want to do it properly.

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office reflecting on the previous year that had past. It had been a long summer and he was preparing for the students returning in just under one month. His mind kept drifting back to Harry and what had transpired in the last few months. After all these years of believing that he had wrongly placed his faith in Sirius Black he had found out that all along he was to be trusted and had only tried to do the right thing by James and Lily Potter.

If he had not given Hermione Granger her time-turner during her third year at Hogwarts, then Harry and herself would have been unable to rescue the innocent man. It had been a fortunate coincidence for there was no way that he could have anticipated such a turn of events. He did not like using children to fulfil what needed to be done but sometimes there was no other alternative, and really it _was_ for the greater good. Sirius would be an asset to the Order once he managed to get it back up and running. _All in good time,_ he thought to himself.

Hermione Granger had taken Dumbledore by surprise during her three years at Hogwarts so far. It was not an uncommon occurrence for a muggle-born student to be over zealous in their studies however he struggled to recall the last time he saw a student who was so quickly adaptable to her surroundings; her intelligence and intuition shone. The more he thought on the subject the more it made sense to him to try and figure out a way to use Miss Granger's talents for the cause. He did not know when Tom would return but he would be willing to bet a large number of galleons that it would be soon; it was prudent that he began preparations quickly.

He needed Miss Granger to continue to stay close with Harry Potter. She would be able to encourage him to stay focused on his studies – the more Harry learnt the more powerful he would be, and the more powerful Harry was the stronger chance the Order stood against defeating Tom. Hermione Granger would no longer need her time-turner for academic purposes as she had declared that she wished to drop Divination and Muggle Studies. However, it could be beneficial to the cause if she retained the device to enable her to have the time to tutor Harry. Yes, he could write up a timetable for the two of them to follow and this way he could ensure Harry received a bespoke education that could greatly affect the outcome of the upcoming war.

* * *

On the second day at the start of term Hermione found herself being called into Dumbledore's office. She had assumed that he had called her in to collect her time-turner. She had not expected that she would be allowed to hold onto it for the duration of summer, but she was pleased that she had been entrusted with the responsibility.

She had worked out that after dropping two subjects there would no longer be any need for her to continue to use it; this had been disappointing to learn as at some point during her third year she had grown rather attached to the necklace. Perhaps this was not surprising as according to the notes she had made regarding her use of the device, she had in all actuality taken two years of her life to complete her third year. The diagnostic spell she performed on herself the previous night had confirmed that she had aged an additional 368 days, meaning that on 16th September she would be turning 16 years old. She had spent the last two months of summer desperate to perform such a spell to confirm that her calculations had indeed been correct. It had already felt as if she was more mature than many of her peers, and so learning that she would now be almost two years older than some of the other students in her year had not been a comforting realisation.

"Ah Miss Granger, how lovely it is to see you again. I trust you had a nice summer?" asked Dumbledore as she walked into his office.

"Yes, I did thank you. I spent much of it staying at the burrow with the Weasley's." She replied, awkwardly rubbing her hands together as she was unsure on how to hold herself.

"How nice to hear." Dumbledore smiled, before then gesturing for Hermione to take a seat. "Lemon drop?" He offered as he reached into the wide pocket of his robes.

"I'm okay, thank you Sir." She said as she walked towards the offered chair and took a seat.

"You may be wondering why I have called you into my office today Miss Granger?" He asked. Hermione nodded, wishing that they could move past the small talk quickly.

Dumbledore proceeded to explain that he planned for her to start tutoring Harry, and confided that it was imperative that they started to plan strategically for them to stand a chance once Voldemort eventually returns. He informed her how significant her actions were at the end of her third year, and told her that he believed her help would be invaluable to the cause.

Hermione felt a little taken aback by the Headmaster's revelation. "I'm sorry Sir, I'm not sure if I understand. Are you saying that you think I should be tutoring Harry? I'm not qualified! I haven't tutored _anyone_ before, in fact the most I have done is simply nag the boys to study. I don't know if I'm the best choice. With my lessons I don't think I even have the hours spare in the day! Surely another teacher must have some spare time to lend a hand?" Hermione asked.

"That is exactly what I'm asking of you, Miss Granger. I'm afraid that you are the best choice for this task. You are close to Harry, meaning he will listen to you. I have heard from your teachers that you are impressively quick to learn new material and I firmly believe that you will succeed. If it is time that is concerning you, I believe I am correct in saying you still have your time-turner from your third year?"

"Well yes… but I had expected that due to the number of subjects I was taking this year that I would not be able to hold onto it?" Hermione queried, her voice small as she furrowed her brow.

"The cause is far more important than you participating in all of the classes that Hogwarts has to offer Miss Granger. I allowed you to gain access to the time-turner for the latter, of course you would be permitted to retain the device if you choose to aid me in this."

Feeling a little silly Hermione simply nodded again, not entirely sure what to say to the Headmaster.

"The tutoring will be simple. Each term I will choose a topic for you to research and then later teach to Harry. At the end of the term I will check in with you both in separate meetings to ascertain whether the target has been reached. Where possible I will provide you with one-to-one sessions with some of the teachers if I believe they can help you. Think of this as not only an opportunity to greater the cause, but also a chance to expand your learning. You know the rules surrounding time travel, I trust that if necessary, you will find suitable times to go back in order for you to revise the material. In addition, following the incident with Sirius Black, Harry is aware of your time-turning privileges, so this need not be something that you keep secret from him." Dumbledore explained as he leant forwards, his hands coming together to form a steeple.

The more Hermione considered his argument the more sense it made, and who was she to turn down the opportunity of developing her education? In fact, the more she thought it over the more excited she was as the prospect of offering her hand. Besides, if the subjects were to rotate around topics that would be beneficial in battle then it was probable that some of the material would be pulled from Defence Against the Dark Arts – her worst subject. It would be foolish to turn down a chance to expand on this key area of her education. She was never one to shy away from academic challenge.

"Okay then, I'll do it." declared Hermione. Dumbledore smiled widely in response.

* * *

The next day Hermione was in the common room before breakfast waiting for the boys to meet her. She was stood near one of the chairs that had a good angle of the stairs leading towards the boys' dormitories. This way she could ensure that she did not miss them. A few other students were buzzing about in the room, but many had already made their way downstairs.

"Hermione!" Harry shouted out, he was standing on the top of the stairs just outside the fourth-year boys' dormitory. "Can I have a word? Quickly?"

"Of course, but I think you'll need to move a bit closer to me, you know I'm not allowed up those stairs." Hermione smiled warmly as she gestured towards where he was stood.

"Right, yes!" Harry exclaimed as he ran down the stairs and pulled Hermione towards a quiet corner of the room. "Has Dumbledore had a chance to speak with you? About tutoring me?"

Hermione was nervous. Until this moment she hadn't actually given much thought to what Harry's reaction would be. "Yes, he spoke to me yesterday evening. Did he speak to you? I said I would do it, but if it's not what you want then don't worry, I'm sure we could go find him now and we can stop this. You're my friend Harry and I don't want you to-"

"Hermione slow down! I told him I was fine with it." Harry said, interrupting her. "I mean, it was slightly insulting at first that he didn't think I was progressing quickly enough, but once he explained his reasoning it all made sense. Naturally there would be some things that would not be touched upon in class, and it is important that I am ready for _him_. After all, it's Dumbledore? If he thinks something is a good idea it must be. I trust him." he said firmly.

"Okay yes, I thought similarly! I'm looking forward to it personally." She began excitedly, but faltered for a moment before continuing, "He's allowed me to keep the time-turner too." Hermione looked down nervously at her mention of the device. She pulled at the loose thread on the hem of her jumper to distract herself, not feeling bold enough to look Harry in the eye.

"He has? As long as you're careful with it 'Mione." Harry said looking slightly uncertain. "Although, come to think of it, you're always careful with everything so I'm sure it'll be fine." He continued, breezing past her doubts. "I'm just glad it's you that's tutoring me. Could you imagine if it was a teacher - like Snape! Can't think of anything worse." Harry laughed before shaking his head, clearly uncomfortable from just thinking about the dour man.

"Harry please, it's _Professor_ Snape." She chastised. "Anyway, it's getting late. I don't want to miss breakfast. Grab Ron so we can head there quickly." Hermione ordered in a no-nonsense tone. "Also, don't tell him about this? At least not yet. You know how funny he can get if he thinks he's being left out, I'd hate for it to cause an argument." Hermione pleaded, looking a little unsure. Harry simply nodded, understanding how hot-headed their friend could be.

* * *

Severus Snape had been called into a meeting with Dumbledore. It was the third day of term and he had just spent the last 40 minutes of his time listening to his godson. Draco had been ranting about his mistreatment the day before at the hands of Mad-Eye Moody - the lunatic had turned him into a ferret. Although he was of the belief that the auror had lost his touch a while back, he had not expected _that_. Whilst he did care for Draco, he had far more important things to be getting on with than listening to a teenager indulge their ego for the better part of an hour. However, it wouldn't be deemed proper for him to be turning the boy away. He didn't have the patience to listen to Lucius berate him for not making time for his son. Draco had certainly inherited his father's ability to drag on a bland conversation.

It was now 8pm and he still needed to finalise his lesson preparations for the following day. The first two weeks of term were always hectic as he ensured that the first years in his house were settling in nicely, all whilst setting aside some of his time to catch up with the older Slytherins.

"There you are Severus. Punctual as always. Please take a seat." Dumbledore said in greeting, gesturing towards the velvet chair that sat in front of his desk, a small smile present on his lips. The old man was already seated in the chair that was behind his desk.

"No need, Albus. Will this be quick?" Snape said shortly, standing rigidly just a few steps away from the door. Dumbledore looked displeased that Severus was planning on being difficult.

"I thought it would interest you to know that I have arranged for Harry to receive private tutoring from a fellow student. Hermione Granger will be taking on the extra-curricular task of guiding him through material that I believe will better his chances of survival in this war. He has already shown an aptitude for Defence Against the Dark Arts, but I fear the school curriculum will not suffice in preparing him for the upcoming war." Dumbledore said.

"With all due respect Albus, I'm not certain what this has to do with me." Snape replied tersely, disgruntled that he had been taken away from his free time to discuss the brat Potter and his bothersome bushy-haired friend.

"Well Severus, for Miss Granger to teach the material she first needs to learn it. Whilst she will be able to take up additional reading to help with some of the load, I think it would be beneficial for her to have one session a fortnight with you to spend two hours going through whichever topic I wish for Harry to learn a little more thoroughly. I thought we could start with defensive spells." Dumbledore informed him.

"You have surely got to be joking? I can barely tolerate that insufferable chit in class, let alone give up two hours of my spare time every other week to teach her a subject that reportedly isn't even her strong suit! Whilst I find it difficult to believe that either child could be considered adequate in comprehending the delicate nature of the Dark Arts, why would you have _Miss Granger_ tutor Potter in a subject that according to the rest of the faculty he is more proficient at than her?!" Snape shouted, disapproving of what the headmaster was asking of him. He was incredulous that it should be _he_ that takes up this responsibility.

"Are you saying Severus that you would rather teach Harry instead?" Dumbledore said calmly, knowing full well that this would hit a nerve with him.

"Of course I'm not!" Snape spat. "I think this whole idea is half-baked and I cannot fathom why in Merlin's beard you think it is worth going through with! I appreciate that you have placed an awful lot of faith in the boy, but I really don't see why he needs this level of special treatment, or why you trust his rather wearisome little friend to deliver it."

"Don't forget to whom you are talking with Severus." Dumbledore said pointedly, leaning forwards in his chair, a coldness present in his blue eyes. "You will be meeting with Miss Granger. You will be providing private tuition to her. I expect your first lesson to begin the third week of term; you may arrange with her the finer details of your sessions."

Snape's nostrils flared, his hands clenching and unclenching next to his side. He was used to Dumbledore not considering his opinion, he had made it rather apparent last year that Severus' concerns were of little consequence to him. He hadn't quite forgiven him for what had happened at the end of last term when Black escaped. He had no proof, but he was certain that Dumbledore, Potter, and Granger had some sort of play in the events that occurred that evening. He knew not to argue the point any further though, as he recognised when a conversation was futile.

"Fine. Is that all Headmaster?" Snape spoke brusquely, glaring at the grey-haired man sat in front of him.

"Yes Severus. You may leave." Dumbledore said as he brought papers that were sat on his desk closer to him and picked up his quill to begin writing, not sparing an upwards glance at the younger professor as he left.

Snape spun on his heels and walked out of the room and down the stairs, cloak billowing behind him. Upon exiting the Headmaster's office, he saw two Hufflepuff girls standing at the end of the corridor giggling amongst themselves.

"5 points each from Hufflepuff for loitering" He thundered with an ugly sneer on his face.

He knew that he was being unjustly harsh, but he couldn't quite bring himself to care. After all, these students did not belong to _his_ house. Merlin help any student that crossed his path as he headed back towards his rooms - he was not in the mood to deal with children tonight.

* * *

Hermione was sat in double potions on Friday 5th September. It had now been three days since she had sat in Dumbledore's office agreeing to tutor Harry. Nothing had been said between Harry and herself since the morning when they spoke in the common room before breakfast. Yesterday, the fourth-year student body couldn't help but discuss little else other than the awful Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson that they had with Mad-Eye Moody - Hermione included. Those present for the lesson still could not quite believe they had witnessed all three unforgivable curses take place in a classroom.

Hermione felt bad for Neville. Not only did he have to witness the cruciatus curse during the first lesson of the year for Defence Against the Dark Arts, but only a day later he had double potions with the teacher he feared the most. She was grateful that today's lesson was entirely theory based and so there was no practical for Neville to make a mistake in, which would only serve to anger Professor Snape. She suspected that he would not make anywhere near as many mistakes if he felt more comfortable around the rather foreboding professor.

"You have two weeks to provide me with four parchment sides on an introduction to antidotes, their benefits, and an explanation and insight into three antidotes of your choice. Class dismissed." Snape said, addressing the class. His eyes landed on her as he watched her put her books into her satchel. "Apart from you Miss Granger, please stay behind. I need to have a word with you."

Ron immediately made a face of indignation. "What's his problem now? You've not even done anything!" he muttered crossly under his breath, looking between Harry and Hermione. Harry looked confused, wandering what on earth the professor would want with her.

Hermione exchanged a look with Harry and Ron. "Don't worry, I'm sure it won't take long. I'll meet you at dinner."

"If you're sure 'Mione. We'll make sure to save you a seat." Ron said looking uncertain. Harry nodded in agreement with him.

"Let me know what he says." Harry whispered to Hermione as he made to leave the classroom with Ron.

"I don't have all day Miss Granger!" Snape snapped, a half second away from interrupting Harry. His eyes were narrowed after watching the conversation between the three friends.

"Yes Sir, I'm sorry! What do you need to talk to me about?" Hermione said, edging closer towards her teacher.

"Since you've agreed to tutor Potter, I've now found myself in the rather undesirable position of being forced to ensure you do it properly." Snape said, contempt oozing from his voice as he looked down his rather large nose at her.

Hermione didn't really know what to say to this. Dumbledore had told her that she would be receiving additional help from her teachers, however she wasn't expecting it to be so soon, and certainly not her potions professor.

"Well do you have a voice girl?" Snape barked at her, irritated at her lack of response.

"Yes of course, sorry Sir. Dumbledore said that it was a possibility that I may be receiving additional support from my teachers, however I was unaware that you would be the one… well, helping me." Hermione stammered, audibly unsure of herself. It was highly unusual that she would have a one-to-one conversation with Professor Snape and she certainly had not been planning on making it a regular occurrence. He was indeed rather intimidating when he was looking directly at you.

Snape curled his lip. "Believe me Miss Granger I hardly found myself jumping for joy at the… prospect of teaching _you_ privately" He said silkily. "You will meet me in this classroom on Wednesday 17th September at 8pm precisely. I will terminate this little deal you have made with the Headmaster if you are so much as a second late. I expect you to meet me at that exact time every fortnight."

"Yes Sir. I understand Sir." Hermione said nodding her head quickly up and down.

"Good. You are excused." He said, his larger than average nostrils flaring at the young girl stood before him.

Hermione did not need to be told twice. She left the classroom promptly and headed towards the great hall for dinner. Dread was beginning to grow in the pit of her stomach. _What on earth have I gotten myself into,_ Hermione thought. _I really hope I can pull this whole tutoring thing off and make it out in one piece._ Whilst Hermione had the greatest of respect for Professor Snape, she most certainly did not feel comfortable or familiar around him. He was one of the few teachers that did not respond to her performance in class with praise, which quite frankly, threw her off kilter. He had mocked her for showing enthusiasm, and at times he had just outright ignored her. _I think I might actually have a better rapport with Professor Binns, which says it all. No,_ _you've always welcomed challenge Hermione; now is not the time to back down. Harry needs you. The cause needs you. I will find a way to make sure this works._ She made her way through the doors leading into the Great Hall, and her friends beckoned her over gesturing towards the seat that they had saved for her. She grinned widely, momentarily forgetting her exchange with Snape, and quickly walked towards them.


	2. Chapter 2

On 17th September Hermione found herself at dinner mentally preparing for her first meeting with Professor Snape. Dumbledore had sent her a note – presumably delivered by house elves, since she found it underneath her pillow - to inform her that she should research defensive magic and that her knowledge would be put to the test in her sessions with her professor. He had also arranged a location for Harry and herself to practice.

Hermione was acutely aware that her potions professor had been after the Defence Against the Dark Arts position for years (each year it was the talk of the student body), and he had seemed very powerful when he duelled against Professor Lockhart in her second year - although she was not entirely sure if that was just in contrast to Lockhart's shocking incapability. She had concluded that Professor Snape was teaching her defence because Dumbledore knew him longer than Professor Moody, and subsequently must trust him more.

Hermione must have been in deep thought for a while as she was pulled out of her reverie by Ron waving his hand rather violently in front of her face.

"Hermione!" Ron said in a voice she thought was unnecessarily loud. "Are you there?"

"Yes! Move your hand out of my face!" She said whilst swatting his hand away. "What's wrong?"

"I was trying to tell you that Harry and I are going back to the common room to play wizard's chess. I asked if you wanted to come with us?" Ron answered, a little annoyed that she hadn't been listening to him the first time he spoke.

"Sorry Ron, I can't," She looked at both boys apologetically. "I need to go to the library to study. I have a couple pieces of homework due that require some work." Hermione said whilst playing with a strand of her hair to make her feel more comfortable about lying to her friend. She felt guilty that he hadn't been told yet about the tutoring, but the right moment just hadn't cropped up.

Ron rolled his eyes. It wasn't the first time he had heard this excuse from her.

"That sounds incredibly boring but suit yourself." He said with a shrug before standing up to leave.

"I hope everything goes well… with your studying and all." Harry said to Hermione, giving her a knowing look. She had broken the unfortunate news that their potions professor would be the one helping them over a week ago.

"Thanks Harry." Hermione replied with a small smile as she watched the two boys leave.

Over the last week and a half Hermione and Harry had discussed an action plan for the tutoring. They agreed that it was more comfortable to think of it as two friends learning alongside each other rather than Hermione overseeing everything. Although, she was keen to make a learning plan for the two of them to adhere to. Her first step was to find out which defensive spells Harry already knew - to which Hermione discovered that he did very little external reading around the subject despite DADA being his favourite lesson.

At least this made Hermione's research job a little easier as she could simply refer to her comprehensive lesson notes that she had made over the last three years to rule out the material that they did not need to cover. She wasn't entirely sure how her sessions with Snape would pan out, but she had checked out several books on defensive spells already from the library in anticipation.

In addition, she had also laid out a strict time-turner schedule to ensure she limited her use to avoid a repeat of third year. She could not keep on aging twice as fast as her peers. The plan was to ensure that she never added more than 12 additional hours to each day, which was a considerable reduction from the previous year. She had become very proficient at the disillusionment charm the year before, and it was how she successfully snuck around the castle without detection; this was entirely necessary in order to reduce the risk of being seen in two places at once.

As she no longer needed to worry about using the time-turner to attend two lessons at once she had devised an alternative plan. Each day she would go to bed at 10pm, sleep through until 6am, turn back in time to 10pm and find somewhere hidden in the castle where she could remain disillusioned until it was 6am again - which was when she would return to bed and 'wake up' in front of her roommates. This meant that she had an additional 4 hours at her disposal during the day so she could fit in a nap to make sure she was getting enough sleep.

She looked at the time, it was 7:50pm. She got up from her seat at the dining table and made her way towards the dungeons, dreading the next two hours of her evening. Once she arrived, she knocked on the wooden door of the potions classroom.

"Enter." Snape's deep baritone voice boomed from inside the room.

"Good evening, Professor." Hermione said tentatively as she stepped inside the classroom, closing the door behind her. Looking around she could see that the tables had been moved to one side, so they only took up one corner of the large room. With a flick of his wand Snape had locked the door behind her.

"Put your belongings down over there and come to stand in front of me," Snape said gesturing towards the area where the tables had been moved to, before crossing his arms in front of his chest. "The Headmaster wishes for these sessions to provide you with practical experience to ensure that the theoretical learning you have been carrying out in your own time isn't entirely useless. These sessions will last 1 hour and 50 minutes, allowing you 10 minutes to return to your dormitory before curfew. As you will be covering defensive spells this term you will be duelling with me, using the spells you have learnt to try and effectively block me. Understood?" Snape drawled, taking the time to emphasise his words. Hermione nodded and the lesson begun.

* * *

Hermione blinked slowly, her bleary eyes looking up towards the ceiling. Her legs and back hurt and her head felt like it was pounding. She could just about make out the black-clothed arm that was being extended towards her. She grabbed the forearm of her professor and he pulled her back up onto her feet.

She had never duelled for such a long period of time before. The closest she had come was half hour practicals during Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons; this session as a result had really taken it out of her. Compared to Snape she was sloppy and clumsy, and she was not quick enough on her feet to keep up. _I suppose that is the point of practice,_ she thought to herself, trying to ignore the thumping pain of her headache.

"Here, drink this." Snape said brusquely, thrusting a mysterious bottle into her trembling hands. Hermione tried very carefully not to drop the bottle whilst she eyed it curiously. Hesitantly, she drank the fluid inside.

"What was that?" She asked grimacing as the bitter tasting liquid made its way down her throat; her headache and the pain in her body were immediately dissipating. Snape arched an eyebrow in response.

"That was a healing potion Miss Granger. Your fall was… particularly hard that time around." He said, smirking cruelly at her. Hermione thought he must rather enjoy the visual of her making an arse of herself. "You need to work on your endurance. I would also suggest you spend more time mastering the following spells," He grabbed a piece of parchment and started scribbling down names of spells in his spiky handwriting. "Especially Protego." he said in a harsh voice, his face blank again.

"Yes Sir. Thank you, Sir." Hermione looked up at the clock in the classroom, it was 9:45pm. She hadn't realised how quickly the time had passed – she had been too preoccupied with desperately trying to defend herself, and rather unsuccessfully too.

"Make sure that you go through all of this with Potter." He said holding up the small piece of parchment he had been writing on just moments before. "Theory is not enough for practical magic and you will not improve if you do not _practice_. Has the headmaster arranged a location for you to work on these spells with Potter?" He asked her.

"Yes. There is a vacated room next to the transfiguration classroom that we have been granted access to on Monday and Friday evenings."

"In that case I recommend that you practise the spells Immobulus and Petrificus Totalus on the Monday. These are spells that can hinder your opponent for longer stretches of time. On the Friday I suggest you practise Protego. This is an excellent choice if you do not have the time to use a defensive spell that can actually stop your opponent from attacking." He handed her the piece of parchment before pointedly saying, "I expect to see an improvement by the next session."

"Thank you. I'm not used to maintaining such a fast pace with my spells, it definitely had an effect on my overall performance." Hermione replied, looking down at her feet. She did not wish to see the critical look that she knew would be on his face. Her words were true, it had seemed that Snape had barely allowed her any reprieve during their session today; the worst thing was he didn't even break a sweat, whereas she was absolutely exhausted.

"Providing you put the work in it all comes in good time Miss Granger. I will see you here again in two weeks' time." Hermione recognised that this was her being dismissed, so she gathered up her things and left the cold, dingy classroom.

As soon as his student left Snape ran both his hands over his face to wake himself up a bit. It was now almost 10pm and he still had a pile of homework to mark. _The girl isn't all that insufferable when she isn't waving her hand in the air incessantly,_ Severus thought to himself. He had never been able to deny the girl's intelligence, but he would certainly never be caught acknowledging it to her – or anyone else for that matter. It was so difficult to teach a class when you had a student insisting on stealing the limelight each lesson; he had no other choice but to either berate or ignore her. Perhaps if she simply absorbed the concept that he did not want his lessons to be a showcase for how much additional reading she did in her spare time he may even like the girl. _Then again, I suppose it's too much to ask a Gryffindor to express an ounce of subtlety in their actions,_ he thought, scoffing aloud at the idea.

* * *

It was Monday 13th October and Harry and Hermione were walking back to the Gryffindor common room after another training session together. Hermione felt as if their practice was having a positive impact on their performance; she thought their movements were more fluid, and she was getting slightly faster at her defence.

The sessions with Harry were certainly not as gruelling as the ones she had with her potions professor. Snape had been just as brutal in their last session as he was in their first, but he had begrudgingly told her she was not quite as poor as she had been the two weeks prior. Although, he did tell her that he hoped Harry was more competent than her if they planned to defeat 'The Dark Lord'. That had hurt a little, but at least Hermione took comfort in the fact that Voldemort had at least not actually returned yet, so there was still time. Hermione was almost used to Professor Snape not sparing her feelings now.

Despite the progress they had been making, Hermione had found out it was a bit challenging trying to convince Harry to go over the theory behind the spells they were practising; he always wanted to begin with the practical element of their sessions as quick as possible. She had tried to stress to him that before going forward and performing the spells he needed to have a good grounding in his knowledge of them in order to use them properly. Harry would often dismiss her concerns, telling her she could learn enough theory for the two of them – Hermione had been grateful that the nature of their training had allowed her an opportunity to hex him in that moment.

It had also not escaped Hermione's attention that they would soon need to tell Ron about what they had been getting up to together as he was becoming increasingly suspicious of their whereabouts on Monday and Friday evenings. He was used to not seeing much of Hermione during evenings due to the amount of time she typically spent in the library, however Harry only spent time in the library in the immediate lead up to a test, and they did not have any of those scheduled for a while. They had managed to convince him to just spend more time with Dean and Seamus, although she was not certain how long that approach could last. She also feared that the longer they kept up the lie, the angrier he would become.

"When are we going to tell Ron about all of this?" Hermione said, turning to look at Harry.

"Soon I think… last Friday he kept asking me where the two of us were going without him. He's getting really sick of me insisting I'm in the library." Harry replied, his brow furrowing. "I think he thinks we're _dating_ or something." Harry said, allowing a shudder to roll off his shoulders. Hermione pulled a face of disgust at the notion.

"Well that's ridiculous! How could he think that?" Harry felt like a brother to Hermione, he was absolutely her last choice for a boyfriend. Of her two best friends she secretly thought Ron was the one who was better looking, and perhaps if he wasn't so infuriating at times, she might even fancy him.

"To be fair to him Hermione we keep disappearing together in the evenings, people are going to start saying things." Harry pointed out.

"Well… do you think we should we tell him tonight then?" Hermione suggested. Harry paused to think about the idea.

"Yeah… I think that would probably be for the best. How should we word it though? He might not like it if he learns that we've been doing this for a month already without telling him."

"Well we can just emphasise that this was all Dumbledore's idea. It's not like he's ever first in line to cram in some extra studying, so we should tell him we didn't think he would be interested." Hermione said, trying not to smile at the ridiculous thought of Ron studying hard in a library. "And if he is interested, we can ask Dumbledore if he would let him join?"

"Good idea." Harry said, agreeing with the proposal.

* * *

"So, let me get this straight - you two have been sneaking off together on some _special mission_ without me? And I'm only learning about this now?!" Ron shouted at his two best friends. Hermione and Harry had not expected a calm response, but they were starting to think they may have underestimated just how hot-headed their fiery-haired friend could be.

"Honestly Ron, we didn't think it would be worth bringing up. We thought by mentioning it you'd feel left out, but we also knew that it wouldn't be something that you would be interested in. We didn't want to pressure you! It was all Dumbledore's idea anyway, it's not as if we sat and purposefully thought of what we could get up to without you!" Hermione reasoned, knowing that even to her ears her excuses sounded rather weak.

"That's not the point though Hermione, is it? It would have been nice to have had a choice! You two didn't tell me, even when I called you both out. You're supposed to be my best friends. This isn't how friends treat each other!"

"Well we were thinking that maybe we could ask Dumbledore if he is okay with you joining us?" Harry suggested; his voice rather quiet in comparison to the angry bellows of his friend. He looked apprehensively between Hermione and Ron.

"Great! There's a chance I might get sympathy access to your exclusive little club!" Ron snapped back sarcastically.

"Ron please don't think of it like that." Hermione pleaded. "We didn't want to seem like we were ungrateful for Dumbledore's offer by immediately asking to change the conditions! Now that some time has passed, I think it makes sense for us to ask if you could join! He knows we come as a trio." Harry nodded along with what Hermione was saying.

"Can you even say we come as a trio though Hermione when I'm just an afterthought?" Ron said, the hurt clear in his voice.

"Ron mate, don't be like this. You know full well you're not an afterthought to us." Harry said placing a hand on Ron's shoulder. Ron shrugged him off, not ready to forgive him just yet.

"First thing tomorrow morning we can all go to Dumbledore's office and we can ask if he's willing to let you join us." Hermione said, in an attempt to boost Ron's spirits and hopefully fix things between them all.

"Fine, but don't think this immediately means I'm okay with how you've both treated me." Ron replied, glaring at the two of them.

* * *

The trio of friends were stood outside of Dumbledore's office the following morning at around 7:30am.

"Mint humbugs." Harry said. The door that shielded the staircase leading up to Dumbledore's office opened upon being presented with the correct password, granting the three access inside.

"Miss Granger, and Misters Potter and Weasley. How nice it is to see the three of you." Dumbledore said the moment they entered his office. Despite not informing the Headmaster that they would be coming to meet him, Dumbledore looked as if he had been expecting them. Hermione always found it a little eerie that he always appeared to know everything that was going on around him at any one moment.

"Hello headmaster. I hope we haven't come at an unfortunate time?" Hermione said, being the first of her friends to speak.

"Not at all Miss Granger, please continue with what you wish to say."

"We wanted to talk to you about my tuition. It's just, the three of us are a team Sir, and it doesn't feel right for us to be split up. We want to be able to all learn together." Harry said, addressing the man who had become a mentor to him throughout his time at Hogwarts.

Ron was stood just slightly behind Harry and Hermione, visibly uncomfortable. He was unaccustomed to speaking to the Headmaster privately, and Hermione wondered if this was why he was so nervous.

Dumbledore reached up to his face to adjust his glasses. Hermione could swear that she saw a twinkle in his pale blue eyes, but she could not be certain whether it was just the light reflecting off his lenses. "Why yes, I did wonder if my decision would have an impact on your close friendship. I was hoping it would not cause any problems. Tell me Mr Weasley, are you sure that you are willing to devote a minimum of four hours a week additional study to your existing workload? It's imperative that this further work does not negatively influence your performance in your classes." Dumbledore said, looking directly at Ron.

"I am, Sir." Ron said, his voice wavering. He stepped forward so he was no longer shielded by his friends. "I won't let it impact my learning. Besides, Hermione here is very good at keeping me in line." He said cracking a small joke; Ron often did this when he was anxious. The others all smiled in return.

"And Hermione, you think you have the time and focus to tutor an additional person?" Dumbledore said, addressing her.

"Yes Sir. I don't believe adding Ron into the fold would make for much additional work, especially as we would be practising together. We would not need to take up any additional resources."

"Well then, in that case I'm more than happy for you to increase your tutoring responsibility." Dumbledore smiled.

"Thank you!" The friends replied in unison, relieved that the meeting had gone as planned.

"I won't let you down headmaster." Ron grinned.

The three of them said their goodbyes and left Dumbledore's office.

* * *

The following day Hermione made her way to the potions classroom for her meeting with Professor Snape. She was desperately hoping that her practise with Harry over the last two weeks had been enough to have had a noticeable impact on her performance. The professor was hardly a kind man – or at least he wasn't to any student outside of his house, especially Gryffindors - and would not hesitate to let her know if her progress was in any way disappointing.

She was desperate to do well today because she did not want Snape reporting back to Dumbledore telling him that she was incompetent for the task at hand, as she had just assured the Headmaster that she would be able to tutor not only Harry, but also Ron. It was crucial that she got this correct. If there was one thing Hermione hated, it was failing.

She knocked on the wooden door of the classroom and waited for a response.

"Enter!" Snape barked.

"Good evening, Professor." Hermione smiled at him. He did not smile back.

"Miss Granger." Snape said in way of greeting, his face stony. "I trust you have been practising the spells we agreed on with Potter over the last two weeks?"

"Yes Sir, Harry has certainly been keen to put the spells to practice." Hermione replied, thinking back to the numerous times he had strayed away from learning the theory behind the spells, instead wishing to skip to the physical exercise.

"Good for him" he sneered. Hermione always felt uncomfortable when he made his distaste for her friend apparent. Although, she supposed the feeling was at least mutual between Harry and the man in front of her. "Let's begin." He asserted.

They spent the next hour and a half duelling. Hermione was able to dodge and block two thirds of the spells he sent her way, but only by the skin of her teeth. The few occasions she had sent defensive spells his way he was able to block them as if it was as natural as blinking – no surprise there.

"That's enough now Miss Granger." he said as she was steadying herself to block the next attack. Hermione dropped her wand arm to her side. She was breathing heavily, trying to recover her stamina. She was unsure whether it was her imagination, but he seemed to be turning over his attacks at a faster rate than he had during the previous sessions. "Your competency at casting the defensive spells has somewhat increased, but your endurance has definitely not. What sort of pace are you practising with Potter?"

"Well I'm not very good with non-verbal magic Sir, so it's a little difficult to maintain the pace that you do…" Hermione trailed off sheepishly, looking at the wall just behind her professor. She found this to be far preferable than making eye contact with the intimidating man.

"What is your education like on attacking spells?"

"Only what we've covered so far in lessons" She tentatively replied.

"Really? With your eagerness to show off I would have thought you'd have memorised the entire Defence Against the Dark Arts syllabus for all seven year groups." he said snidely.

"No. Not quite." Hermione bit out, this time looking him in the eye. She tried not to let his rudeness get to her. He was still her professor and still demanded her respect, however challenging he made that at times. He looked at her oddly for a couple of moments before turning behind him to retrieve a piece of parchment.

"Seeing as you rarely stick that head of yours outside of a library, I'm sure you'll have no difficulty finding the following books." He drawled, writing the titles to three books down on the scrap piece of parchment, before then handing it to her.

"Are these for defensive spells?" She asked

"No. They're books that cover a number of intermediate attacking spells. You will be unable to give Potter effective tuition if he is not actually being tested. It is not enough for you to cast a half-arsed Jelly Legs Jinx and applaud him for his ability to block it."

Although Hermione was not surprised that her professor was insulting her, she did not expect to hear such informal language coming from his mouth. Whilst she would have appreciated a more delicate delivery of his advice, she gladly welcomed it. After seeing how annoyed he was at the notion of teaching her one-to-one she had not expected him to help her beyond the bare minimum. She had also noticed that his comments had a lot less bite when it was just the two of them; it made his company markedly more enjoyable than when he was teaching Potions.

"Thank you, Sir." She said appreciatively, taking the parchment from him.

Snape looked behind him at the clock on the wall. It was 9:40pm. "If you'd like Miss Granger you can leave 10 minutes early." He told her. Hermione thanked her professor for his time, gathered up her things, and promptly left the classroom.

As she still had 20 minutes before curfew, she decided she would head straight to the library so she could read the books tonight when she turned back in time. As she was walking, she reflected on her session today with Professor Snape. His criticism had been constructive, and now she had a plan in place to improve her tuition of both Harry and Ron. She wasn't sure if her professor knew that she was tutoring both boys now, but she was in no rush to point it out. She suspected that he would only tell her that she was barely suitable to tutor one person, let alone two.

* * *

It was now Saturday 17th November, and Hermione was exhausted. It had been an emotional rollercoaster of a month. On October 31st Harry had been named as a Triwizard Champion which in turn had a rather significant effect on her ability to tutor him, and it had _certainly_ had an effect on tutoring Ron as he now avoided Harry like the plague.

After speaking with Dumbledore, it had been agreed that it would be in Harry's best interests if she now only tutored him once a week, as he needed the additional evening to prepare for the tournament so he could make it out of the blasted thing alive. Not that she blamed Harry - she believed him when he said he didn't know how his name ended up in the cup, but the whole situation was frustrating to say the least.

It had also been agreed between Ron and herself that she would no longer be tutoring him. It transpired he had only really been interested in the whole thing at all because he was jealous. He didn't actually want to increase his workload, and now his friendship with Harry had been put through the wringer he had no reason to want to drop in on their sessions. His only extra-curricular focus was quidditch. It had been a little humiliating in all honesty having to inform Dumbledore that the three of them had changed their minds on Ron joining the group, especially as it had only been a measly two weeks since they had asked.

She had completed two further sessions with Professor Snape and had found that out of this whole agreement it had been the only thing she was genuinely enjoying since Harry's name was pulled out of the cup. He gave her his advice on what to improve at the end of each session and actually _helped_ her. She was not expecting at the start of the school year that she would be looking forward to her Potions professor's company every fortnight.

She was currently reading a book called 'Apparition – A Beginner's Guide to Mastering the Art of Disappearing', whilst sat disillusioned in an alcove stationed in a corridor that was close to the kitchens. Hermione had calculated that with the addition of her time-turner use she was now approximately 16 years and 3 months – which meant if she sustained her current usage of the time travelling device then she would be turning 17 in around 6 months. As a result, she would no longer have the trace on her so she'd be able to use her magic outside of Hogwarts from May onwards, _and_ she would be old enough to safely practice apparition – providing she learnt the theory correctly. She knew it would raise suspicion if she signed herself up for training courses or took the official test, so she would just need to find a way to learn the skill entirely by herself.

Hermione rather liked this spot as there were no portraits nearby to loudly chastise her for using her wand to create a light to illuminate her book – they all insisted the light kept them awake, but Hermione thought that the idea of a portrait needing sleep was farcical. It wasn't worth the hassle of being discovered however, so she never argued. She had been reading in this alcove every night for the last month. It was now 2am, and she knew from experience that it was highly unlikely anyone else would be wandering the hallways at this time.

The late hour had meant that Hermione was not as vigilant as she would be at the start of the night, as she was operating under the assumption that no one else would be up. It was only when the approaching footsteps were very close that Hermione realised someone was coming. "Nox." She whispered, turning out the light coming from her wand. She quickly closed her book, screwed her eyes shut and tried not to move a muscle. Hermione hoped that her disillusioned form would be too difficult to see in the dark.

Hermione soon felt a wave of magic pass over her. She opened her eyes to see that Professor Snape's imposing figure was looming over her. Her disillusionment spell had been removed, resulting in her blue cotton striped pyjamas to be on full display. She promptly stood up, gulped, and braced herself for the impact of his scathing comments.

"Well, what do we have here?" Snape said with an ugly grin. "Out of bed are we Miss Granger?" Snape leaned forward and roughly snatched the book out of her hands and read the front cover.

"Why would _you_ need to read a guide on apparition? You're two years away from even being able to practice it." He said to himself, looking back up at her with a strange look on his face. In a flash it contorted back into his trademark sneer. "I would have thought with your project with Potter you'd at least be reading something useful. Pity. 30 points from Gryffindor and you'll be serving a week's worth of detention with me."

" _30 points?"_ Hermione echoed, not expecting such a large number to be deducted. This was going to be a difficult one to explain to her housemates.

"Watch your attitude Miss Granger, or I'll double it." He spat at her, not liking his authority being questioned.

"But Sir- "

"That's two weeks detention Granger. Now get back to your dormitory before you make this worse for yourself." Hermione knew it would be unwise to say anything else, so she headed back to the Gryffindor common room and let out a sigh of annoyance.

When it was avoidable Hermione would not disillusion herself in the common room as her chances of being discovered there were significantly higher, however her other self was currently fast asleep in her bedroom, so she had no other choice. She would need to wait the morning out there.

 _Two weeks of detention. Two! How on earth am I going to explain this, not to mention the points lost! I_ _ **never**_ _get detention_ she thought as she made her way up the moving staircases. _Oh Merlin, what if he makes me scrub the cauldrons by hand for the next two weeks_. Hermione had to stop herself from physically gagging just thinking about it. She had heard horror stories from how disgusting those cauldrons were from other students. Seamus told her once that he purposefully saves the cauldrons that have been subjected to potion accidents and allows them to go mouldy just to ensure the task of cleaning them was as vile as possible. Hermione shook her head as she walked through the portrait leading into the common room. Hopefully he would ask her to do something else, _anything_ else.


	3. Chapter 3

It was Monday 19th November. Severus Snape was marking his third-year students' homework in his office. It was 7:30pm and he would be expecting the presence of Hermione Granger within the next half hour. As he worked, he found that his mind kept flicking back to the young Gryffindor.

When he had learnt that he would be teaching Miss Granger privately he had been horrified at the idea. He loathed losing his free time, and he could barely tolerate the girl in lessons. He had to admit however that the experience had been more pleasurable than expected. She was always on time, always came prepared and clearly worked on the subject matter outside of their sessions, _and_ she showed it modestly – a stark contrast to her performance in his potion classes. He had always assumed that her insistence on showing how well she could parrot the inside of a text book had come from wanting to be teacher's pet – he now wondered if it was her way of proving herself amongst her peers.

It made sense after all, she was a muggle-born student living in a wizarding climate where prejudice was rife. He supposed she must have spent her time at Hogwarts finding her feet in a society where many operated on the assumption she was inferior to them, on no basis other than her blood.

He had been rather taken aback by finding her in that alcove a couple of days ago. It was to his understanding that Miss Granger rarely stood a toe out of line, and any misbehaviour was always the brainchild of either Mr Potter or Mr Weasley. Perhaps he had misjudged her.

Although, it did amuse him that her choice of activity when breaking the school rules was reading. He couldn't think of anything more fitting with her character – even if her choice of reading material was a little unusual for a girl of her age. She was no doubt overthinking the task of apparition if she believed she would need two years of preparation to pass her test. She was almost obsessive in her need to learn. He also did not understand why she could not just read in her bed if she was unable to sleep, it certainly would have made more sense. Maybe the idea of sneaking around appealed to her, some strange way of showing teenage rebellion.

Severus had regretted issuing her with two weeks of detention, it was a lot of his spare time to give up for a student who was out of bed doing something as harmless as reading a book. Rules were rules however, and someone had to enforce them. If she hadn't had been so impertinent the punishment wouldn't have needed to be so long.

She was a very competent student, and one of the best that had come through his classes – even if she did lack the ability to think laterally. She was very skilled at following either the textbook or his written instructions to the letter, but she was not very good at thinking of ways to tweak the ingredients to improve the potency of a potion. Perhaps as she got older, she could work on that - not that he would ever be able to offer much help. It would not be seemly for him to coddle a muggle-born student as head of Slytherin when a war was on the horizon. He also did not have the proclivity to befriend a Gryffindor.

 _Maybe I can get her to brew some simple medicinal potions for Poppy, she's been breathing down my neck for days now asking for a replenished stock of Pepper-Up Potion,_ Snape thought to himself. _Yes, she'll be more than competent to brew that. The next two weeks don't need to be bothersome, I can make this work to my advantage._

He was interrupted from his musings by a knock on his office door. He sighed heavily, stood up and proceeded to hurl the door open.

"This better be good-" He snapped, stopping mid-sentence as he realised who was standing on the other side of the door.

"Good evening, Professor. I went to the classroom for my detention, but you weren't there so I thought I'd see if you were in your office." Hermione said timidly.

Snape turned to look at the clock on his wall behind him. It was 8:05pm – he had not realised how caught up in his thoughts he'd been.

"Right. Of course, Miss Granger. Let's move to the classroom." He went back inside his office, scooped up the stack of parchment papers on his desk, and walked with his student to the Potions classroom.

"Will I be cleaning cauldrons today, Sir?" Hermione asked as soon as they entered the classroom, looking up at her tall professor.

"No, you will not. You will be spending your detentions over the next two weeks brewing potions for Madam Pomfrey, starting today with the Pepper-Up Potion." He non-verbally summoned a fourth-year textbook and passed it to her. "Everything you need to complete the potion will be listed in here. You may leave once you have brewed 25 vials. All ingredients are stored in the classroom's store room." He said whilst taking a seat behind his desk.

"What will you be doing, Sir?" Hermione asked, confused that her punishment wouldn't actually be much of a punishment at all.

"I will be sat here marking papers Miss Granger, and I would appreciate it if you carried out this task in silence." He said glaring at her. Hermione nodded and opened the textbook he had handed her.

* * *

One hour later, and Hermione found herself bottling up her 25th bottle of Pepper-Up Potion.

"Sir, I've finished." Hermione said. Snape looked up, and for a split-second Hermione could have sworn he looked confused before his face fell to the stony expression she was accustomed to seeing on him.

"That was very quick Granger. If you've spoilt anything through your eagerness to leave don't think I won't hold you back until you've managed to finish the job properly." He said curtly. He stood up and came to stand beside her as he inspected the 25 small potion vials. "Looks as if I underestimated you, girl. I'll make sure to double your quantity tomorrow."

Hermione smiled up at him, not quite believing her ears. "Was that a compliment Sir?" She asked.

"No, it most certainly wasn't." He snapped back at her. Instantly regretting his choice of words just moments ago. "There's nothing impressive about brewing a fourth-year potion in your fourth-year." He sneered down at her.

"We don't cover Pepper-Up Potion until the second term though." Hermione replied through gritted teeth, her smile all but forgotten. How hard was it for him to concede that she had done well today?

"May I remind you that this is a detention _not_ an opportunity for you to pamper your Gryffindor ego."

"What does my _house_ have to do with this?" She asked incredulous, forgetting she was speaking to her professor.

"Oh please, you Gryffindors are all the same – always needing to thrust your achievements in the face of others. No deed is too small for you lot to throw an unwarranted celebration. Why exhibit subtlety when you can shove how fantastic you think you are down the throats of others?" Snape retorted scathingly, unsure why he was indulging her in this conversation.

Hermione glared at her professor, her nostrils flaring. What was wrong with taking pride in your own work? She couldn't believe that she was listening to a Slytherin - of all people - criticise her house.

"May I leave now?" She said unable to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

"By all means. I've had enough of your presence for one evening." He said nastily.

Hermione stormed out of the room – to think she thought she almost found herself enjoying his company! The man was intolerable.

* * *

The following day Hermione had potions in her third period. Fortunately, it wasn't a double period, unlike their Friday lesson - this meant that the lesson would be theoretical only as they would not have the time to brew a potion. She had spent the night reeling from her professor's unjustified comments at the end of her detention the day before.

It was so frustrating when it was a teacher who was trying to dig you into the ground. Talk about unprofessional! She knew he didn't like Gryffindors, but why did her house give him the right to tear into her character? He barely knew her! Was it really that difficult for him to admit that she was a good student? There must have been a reason after all as to why she hadn't been allocated the grim task of cleaning cauldrons. She couldn't bring herself to be ashamed for talking to a teacher disrespectfully when he had been so horrid to her first.

She had spent today's lesson refusing to raise her hand. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. If taking pride in herself meant that she was arrogant then so be it, but she would no longer give him the opportunity to mock her. The majority of her class never bothered with further reading, so good luck to him getting his answers from her peers. She decided she found it more satisfying to watch him get increasingly more irate as the class failed to participate, as opposed to being the one to hand the answer to him straight away.

* * *

"Can anyone tell me the different colours you would expect to see from heating a Girding Potion during the brewing process?" Severus addressed the class, standing in front of his blackboard. This had been the third question he had asked this class since the lesson begun, and he was really hoping they'd manage to get this one correct. Getting an answer for the previous two questions had been like pulling teeth, _and_ both answers were wrong.

"Anyone?" He said through gritted teeth after an uncomfortable stretch of silence. He was losing the focus of this class, which wouldn't do. His eyes flickered across the students that sat before him, and his eyes soon found his target.

"Miss Granger. You've been awfully silent this lesson." He said silkily as he approached the girl, coming to stand just in front of her on the other side of her desk. "Not that I'm one to complain – in fact, it's been quite the rare treat to not see your incessant handwaving throughout the lesson – the issue is, I've got to wonder _why_. Clearly this subject is a little outside of your grasp, but please give me your best guess as to which colours should appear during the brewing process." He said smugly, assuming she hadn't had the chance to do the reading on the potion. Between her other classes, helping Potter, and the detentions he had given her, she must have been rather tight for time.

His comments had the desired effect, there was a wave of snickering coming from the left-hand side of the room where his Slytherins sat. He found there was nothing like a spot of ridicule to get the children to revise their focus – they always feared that if they didn't wind their own necks in, they would be next.

"In chronological order you would expect to see turquoise, pink, blue, red, blue again, and then green. Once the potion cools down it will become a golden colour." Granger said coolly, smiling sweetly at him. Severus' smug smile quickly fell.

"Correct Miss Granger, 5 points from Gryffindor for not participating in classroom discussion sooner." He sneered at her.

"That's ridiculous!" Weasley piped up, indignant that Granger was being punished.

"Excuse me?" Severus turned to look at his source of irritation, cross that he was being questioned in _his_ place of authority.

"She did what you asked her to do! And you're punishing her!" Ron shouted at him. The room was silent.

"15 points from Gryffindor for your insolence Mr Weasley. This is _my_ classroom and I will deduct points as _I_ see fit." Severus barked.

He watched Granger smile at Weasley, silently thanking him. He turned around to walk back to the blackboard, and when he faced the class again he saw her glaring at him. He caught her eye and smirked arrogantly back.

* * *

It was Friday 23rd November, and Snape yet again found himself spending his evening in his classroom with Hermione Granger for company. She still had a total of five other detentions to complete with him, and he was ensuring he got the most out of the situation.

She had already brewed 175 bottles of Pepper-Up Potion, and by the end of today he reckoned he would have Poppy stocked up until Christmas. Despite the rocky end to the first detention, the rest of the week had gone smoothly – although admittedly, the two had barely spoken to each other.

"Can I ask you a question?" Hermione said shyly. She was currently preparing the mandrake root.

"You may, although I might choose not to answer it." His interest had been piqued.

"It's the first task of the tournament tomorrow." She said.

"That isn't a question." He replied bluntly.

Hermione took a deep breath in. "I'm worried about Harry. He has a plan now – but I don't know if it will work. In fact, after this detention I'll be helping him to practice it, but I don't _know_ if it will be enough. I've heard people die in this competition… I just wanted to know if you think that could happen? To Harry?" She blurted out.

She wasn't sure why she was talking to him of all people about this, but she had spent all her free time today practising the summoning charm with Harry, and she couldn't have this conversation then – she didn't want to worry him. Unfortunately, it was difficult to shake the possibility of your best friend dying in 24 hours, and Snape was the only person to hand.

"I can't comment on the tournament." Snape sighed heavily, not looking up or stopping what he was working on.

"I'm not asking you to, I know that you can't. I just want to know if you think he'll be dead before the weekend is out." Hermione said, eyes wet with unshed tears. Hearing the crack in her voice, Snape looked up.

"I don't think Potter will die." He said simply.

"But can you be sure?"

"Does it matter? He only has himself to blame for this entire situation. If only he could have controlled his glory hunting disposition, then he wouldn't even be in this mess." Snape replied harshly.

"It's not like he put his name in that cup! Harry doesn't care about the tournament!" Hermione countered.

"Oh, you don't really believe that do you?" He barked a laugh.

"Harry is my friend; my _best_ friend and I know he wouldn't lie to me." She said firmly.

"The boy is reckless. He struts about the castle bathing in his own self-importance and to me it finally looks like he's going to learn where his fool-hardy behaviour gets him – in danger. Being the prophesied 'chosen one' just wasn't enough for him, he had to find a way to up the ante!"

"He does not - that prophecy is nothing but a black cloud over his head! If he had it his way it would have never existed – do you think he enjoys the fact his parents are _dead?_ " Hermione replied incredulously, rushing to the defence of her friend. She knew Harry's true character.

Snape went still at the mention of Harry's parents and swallowed thickly. The pair maintained eye contact for two long, silent seconds.

"He won't die Miss Granger; the headmaster would intervene before such an event occurred." He said to her quietly, the harshness gone from his voice. He returned to the work that was in front of him.

"I didn't think that was allowed?"

"Normally it wouldn't be, but he firmly believes the boy is the key to The Dark Lord's demise. He wouldn't allow something as trivial as a tournament to compromise that."

Hermione nodded in response. "Thank you for reassuring me." She said after a moment. Snape did not respond.

20 minutes later Hermione was sat down on one of the stools near her workbench waiting for the potion to brew. She was nervously tapping her fingernails on the desk next to her.

"Refrain yourself from fidgeting Miss Granger." Snape said sounding bored.

"Sorry Sir." Hermione stopped her tapping, only to start nervously rubbing her hands together.

"What is Potter's plan?" Snape asked, surprising Hermione.

"He's going to summon his broomstick. That way it'll be a lot easier to get around the dragon." She turned her head to look at her professor. He looked up at the same time, meeting her gaze.

"That sounds like an idea that might work."

"He doesn't know how to cast a summoning spell yet though." Hermione said dejectedly, looking down at the floor near her professor's desk.

"Is Mr Weasley unable to help him?"

Hermione let out a small laugh at his question. "Aside from the fact the two of them aren't talking anymore, I really don't think Ron would be the… most suitable person to teach Harry a new spell. Don't get me wrong – he isn't _bad_ at casting spells, but he does have to work a lot at it before mastering anything - which is a bit of a problem for someone who doesn't have much of a work ethic."

Snape smiled genuinely at this. It wasn't very big, and it didn't show any of his teeth, but Hermione thought it relaxed his features. He looked younger.

"Is that why you stopped tutoring Mr Weasley? I was informed that the agreement didn't last long."

"Yes… and no, I suppose it didn't. I can't tutor them separately – I don't have the energy – and they refuse to be in the same room as each other whenever possible. Besides, Ron didn't even want to be tutored, he just didn't want to be left out." She said sadly.

There was a long, silent pause before Snape sighed heavily and ran his fingers through his hair. Hermione spotted that it didn't look greasy. He must have washed it since their earlier lesson.

"I'll take over the remainder of the potion. You should go and find Potter and help him. There's still more than an hour left before curfew." He reluctantly told her. Hermione couldn't quite believe her ears.

"Do you mean that?"

"I advise you move quickly Miss Granger before I withdraw the offer." He said pointedly, but there was no bite to his tone.

"Thank you so much!" Hermione said, smiling brightly at him, before turning to gather her things.

* * *

It was Wednesday 28th November, a day which should have been a training session with Miss Granger. Instead, he had insisted that she complete her scheduled detention. If she wanted the privilege of his dedicated time, then she should not have been roaming about the castle at unsociable hours.

He figured that it was highly unlikely that she would tell Dumbledore, and if she did then he would find some sort of way to explain himself. He didn't want to drag the detentions into next week, and he wasn't going to let her get off with one detention fewer. He had already let her go early on the Friday, he couldn't have her thinking that he liked her – because he most certainly _did not._

She had only raised her hand once during double potions last Friday, and it was without the frantic waving that she normally exhibited. He had purposefully ignored her to see what her response would be, and to his surprise she didn't react. She didn't call the answer out, she didn't insist he listen to what she had to say, she just calmly put her hand down and waited for the lesson to continue. It was rather strange. He wasn't sure what had come over the girl. He couldn't figure out why she was exhibiting this sudden change in behaviour. She didn't raise her hand once during yesterday's lesson.

In today's detention he had her brewing 60 vials of Sleeping Draught. It was a potion that he teaches second years, so she was more than able to brew this easily. It wasn't a potion that Poppy ever required a large supply of, but it was a useful one to have on hand when students came in to the infirmary significantly injured. It allowed her to work on healing them without them suffering needlessly.

Whilst the girl had seemed disappointed to learn that they would not be duelling today, she did not appear to mind producing potions. Whilst he knew that most students would consider practising potions a far more pleasurable activity than scrubbing cauldrons, he was surprised to see how at peace she looked when she was brewing.

It wasn't something he had noticed in lessons due to how close he had to monitor the less competent students. He had to in order to prevent a serious accident – the wrong combination of potions ingredients could prove deadly, and some of the students were remarkably thick. It was possible that under the right guidance she could pursue a potions-based career - but then again, according to the rest of the teaching faculty she could pursue a career in just about anything. Not that it mattered, he was hardly going to subject himself to mentoring the girl.

An unforeseen advantage of the detentions had meant that he had a great deal more time on his hands to complete his other work, she had saved him around 7 hours of brewing last week. It meant that he was able to go back to his private labs to work on his current project, rather than accommodate the seemingly never-ending demands of Madam Pomfrey. He liked the woman, he just could never quite fathom how many potions she managed to burn through.

He found himself rather grateful that Miss Granger was as dedicated to her studies as she was, and therefore competent enough to brew for him. Her work would be missed once the end of this week was up.

"How are your sessions going with Potter?" He asked Granger.

He wouldn't ordinarily talk to the students who serve detention with him, but that had already gone out of the window the previous week. He also thought it was probably best if he checked her tutoring sessions were going okay, just in case the fact she was serving detention with him today made its way back to Dumbledore. This way he could insist he was multi-tasking.

"They were going okay, but we didn't get an opportunity to practise last week. He had been really busy with the tournament, but now that the first task is over, I'm hoping we can get more practise in." She said politely.

"Did you not get a chance last Monday? Or did your detention here stop you?"

"The headmaster has told us that he doesn't want us to practise twice a week anymore, because of the tournament. Friday is the only day we can practise now." She replied, whilst stirring her potion counter-clockwise.

"Have you been practising your attacking spells?" He was starting to wonder what she had even been doing for this project in recent weeks.

"When I get the opportunity. I now find myself spending even more time reading about defensive spells. The fact I can't physically train with Harry for as long now means that I need to ensure I know exactly what I'm talking about when I do." She stopped stirring her potion and looked up at him. "I suppose the learning is less of a joint effort now. It's not quite how the two of us thought it would work out."

"How have you been navigating the balance between going over the theory with him and physically practising the spells?" He asked, curious.

"I now write down a summary of the theory behind a spell or two I've been researching and leave it for him to read in his own time. He loses patience quickly if it's not in bullet point form." She said, rolling her eyes.

"How inspiring it is to know this is a boy who is meant to save the wizarding world as we know it." He quipped, smiling at her.

She laughed, "Yes, I suppose it does sound rather dire."

* * *

Hermione sat down on the stool next to her station and waited for the potion to rest. It would take a further 15 minutes before it was ready to bottle. Several minutes passed between them without either saying a word.

"Why have you been raising your hand in class less?" Her professor asked her suddenly. His face was expressionless.

"I thought you didn't like it when I did." Hermione frowned.

"Since when has that stopped you before?"

"Maybe I don't like being called arrogant." She said bluntly.

"Perhaps you're too sensitive." He countered.

Hermione supposed it had been too good to be true that they had almost managed an entire detention maintaining a civilised conversation.

"Would you rather I went back to answering each question you ask? What is it, are your Friday afternoons feeling a little empty without as many opportunities to embarrass me?" She hit back, her tone short. It was ordinarily unlike her to answer back, but Snape made it rather difficult to resist the temptation.

"Why yes, I rather suppose they are." He said smirking at her, before returning to his work.

 _Is he cracking another joke?_ Hermione thought to herself. _I didn't know he even_ _made jokes?_

The 15 minutes of rest had passed, and Hermione began bottling up her vials of Sleeping Draught. Once she finished, she collected her belongings. "May I leave Sir?" She asked.

A strange look graced his features, but it was gone almost as soon as it arrived. "Yes, I suppose you can. Thank you for your work today Granger." She smiled at him, wished him a good night and left the classroom.

Snape watched her leave and couldn't help but think he didn't dislike the girl quite as much as he thought he did.


	4. Chapter 4

It was Wednesday 9th January at around 10pm and Severus Snape was lounging back on the dark brown leather chesterfield sofa in his rooms, reflecting on his evening. He had not long ago said goodbye to Miss Granger after another training session with her. This term it had been decided by Dumbledore that they would go over attacking spells, a subject Severus at least found more interesting than defensive spells. He had been instructed to use his discretion when it came to which spells to teach her.

After his tuition the previous term she had already started doing extracurricular reading around attacking spells, so it had been easier to hit the ground running this term. He was still debating which books he should recommend she read. On one hand Dumbledore had said that he wanted these sessions to provide more than what the school's curriculum offers, and on the other hand she was just a 15-year-old girl. He didn't want to cover material that was darker than what she was ready for.

If it transpired she was unable to appreciate the complexity behind the dark arts then she would never be able to use them. Too many people focus on the negatives, and therefore never get to see the true beauty behind the incantations. Of course, dark magic could produce some nasty results, but he believed everyone should at least have a basic grounding in it. If she wasn't mature enough to handle such magic then it could distract her focus, and it would consequently slow down their sessions.

Earlier in the week he had grilled Potter about his missing potion ingredients supplies. The brat wasn't being honest with him, but he did manage to maintain eye contact with him long enough to read his surface thoughts. He was not expecting to learn that two years prior Miss Granger had the audacity to steal ingredients from him and had somehow managed to successfully brew a batch of Polyjuice potion.

It was a potion that many adult witches and wizards shy away from due to its complexity, so it was rather shocking to discover that a 13-year-old witch had managed to brew it properly – presumably first try, as he surely would have noticed if any more of his ingredients had gone missing.

He knew Potter was somehow responsible this time around too, he just needed to figure out why. A rather large quantity of his ingredients had disappeared, and although it seemed odd Potter was getting through such a great number of each component when the boy readily had access to someone who could brew the potion correctly, this did not rule out his potential involvement. Trouble followed that boy like a shadow.

Perhaps one day he would ask Miss Granger about her potion brewing escapade. He couldn't help but think he had underestimated the talent of the girl. The more he learnt about her, the more he wondered what else he didn't know. She was a peculiar girl.

Severus did find himself considering what else must go on inside the castle without detection from a single faculty member. It was rather incredible no one had noticed a second-year student brewing a potion for an entire month in a public girls' bathroom.

* * *

On February 26th Hermione found herself walking back to the common room after spending another evening with Viktor. She appreciated spending more time with someone that was a little older than her, especially as the age gap between herself and the other boys in her year kept only increasing. The older she grew the less interested she found herself in the boys that should have been the same age as her, and the more intrigued she was by men – hence her attraction to Viktor.

She wasn't too sure as to what extent she had feelings for him, but she did know that she enjoyed his company. Granted, it was unlikely that they would manage to maintain a lasting relationship – there was ordinarily a lot of distance between the pair, and she did find it challenging to have any truly meaningful conversation with him; they shared a slight language barrier. It was rather fascinating though to hear how different his culture was in Bulgaria, and he did manage to make quidditch sound a little more interesting than the boys.

It had been frustrating for her dealing with how difficult Ron was being over her relationship with Viktor. She had been under the impression that once Ron and Harry had made up things would be plain sailing between the three of them; instead he was now taking every opportunity available to him to make small digs at her. Once he rudely suggested that she had even slipped Viktor a love potion. She just couldn't figure out why he wasn't able to be happy for her.

The only explanation she could think of was that Ron fancied her, but that made no sense. He had only asked her to the Yule Ball as a last resort, and had found it so unfathomable that someone else would have wanted to take her that he assumed she had been lying about having a date. She had been disappointed in herself for allowing him to ruin that night for her; why shouldn't she have been able to enjoy something nice? She had so been looking forward to that evening, taking extra care in her appearance so she could impress Viktor. Everything had been going perfectly until Ron decided to get nasty.

She had thought last year that Ron was rather handsome, but with his behaviour this year she had been thoroughly put off. He was just so… _childish._ Not to mention, she would be turning 17 soon in a matter of months, and Ron wouldn't be turning 15 until next week. Perhaps that's why she struggled to understand his recent behaviour – she had just outgrown his maturity. She still cared deeply for him, but when he wasn't being an arse to Harry this year, he was being rude to her.

The more she considered her age, her mind drifted towards her upcoming 'birthday'. She thought it would be prudent to inform Dumbledore, but she didn't know when to do so. Telling him would hardly change anything, but it would be nice for someone to at least be aware of what was happening to her. She could only confide in him or Harry, and it was beginning to feel rather lonely keeping the secret to herself.

Once she reached her rooms, she went to her trunk to grab some leggings and a loose fitting top. She had decided over the Christmas holidays that the best way to improve her stamina would be to boost her fitness.

She would go on a 20-minute run in the evenings every weekday through the school grounds, followed by some resistance exercises to boost the strength in her core and arms. It was nothing extreme, but she had been doing it for almost two months now and she had been really feeling the benefits. She always made a point to disillusion herself when she worked out – she didn't want the embarrassment of anyone noticing her and asking questions.

During their last session Professor Snape had commented on her increased agility. She had felt grateful that he had already pointed her in the direction of good attacking spells to practise as it had meant that she had a better foundation of knowledge to work with this term. She was unsure whether the idea of going over attacking spells was Dumbledore's or Professor Snape's, as it tied in particularly nicely with the additional material he had set her before Christmas.

Snape behaved differently to how Hermione had expected. In their sessions he was gentler than he was at the start of the year – he was less abrupt, more helpful, and even cracked jokes from time to time. He was still snarky, but he was not cruel. She still refrained from raising her hand in his lessons for the most part, and he seemed to respond well to it. He wasn't as scathing to her in the classroom as he used to be, but that could be because he now had fewer opportunities to criticise her. Either way, Hermione welcomed the change.

After changing into her gym clothes, she disillusioned herself and went outside to complete her exercise routine.

* * *

"Harry, you said you would practise this!" Hermione shouted at her friend, exasperated. It was 31st March and it was the last Friday before the end of term. This would be their final session on attacking spells with each other.

"I'm trying to Hermione – but I'm a little stretched thin at the moment." Harry snapped back, not enjoying her criticism.

"Your final task for the tournament is _months_ away, and we only get to practise with each other once a week, the least you could do is find a spare moment or two to go through this material!" She retorted.

"I do have other things to do Hermione! I have school work, and then there's Sirius too-"

"I also have things to do Harry!" Hermione interrupted her friend, tired of hearing his excuses. "I'm the one that will get told off by Dumbledore if I don't manage to teach you properly!" She ran her fingers through her curly mane, feeling stressed at their lack of progress.

The pair had been practicing the leg-locking curse, a spell Hermione knew that Harry should be able to learn with ease – he had certainly mastered much more difficult magic. This was why it was particularly maddening for her because she knew that he was merely not applying himself.

She knew that her offensive and defensive magic had improved considerably since she had embarked on this project, however she was uncertain if she could say the same for Harry. The presence of the tournament had made is significantly more challenging to practise as often as she had hoped for, and Hermione just couldn't help but feel her friend's heart was no longer in it. For him there were far more pressing matters to deal with.

Harry was very good at learning new spells – especially those based in Defence Against the Dark Arts – when he _had_ to. Whenever Harry had a pressing reason to learn something he had always done remarkably well. It was impressive that he could cast such a strong patronus charm full stop, let alone at his age.

Unfortunately, their current lessons were not fuelled by an immediate necessity to learn. Of course they were important, they both knew that he would need to be ready once Voldemort returns, but they didn't really know when that would be. It could be years from now – even if Dumbledore did believe such a threat was imminently approaching.

"It's not the same for you though, I don't exactly have the ability to go back in time whenever I'm behind schedule!" Harry countered.

"None of this would be possible if I didn't have that Harry, it doesn't mean that I don't spend most of my waking hours working hard towards something. I'm not using it to kick back and relax." She replied, hurt creeping into her voice.

"I never said you were, but it is a luxury that I think you forget about." Harry said, speaking more softly now.

Hermione sighed heavily and took a seat on one of the chairs that was in the empty classroom they were currently occupying.

"I definitely don't forget about it." She said, turning to look at him. Harry took a seat next to her, reaching for her arm.

"How are things going with the time-turner? Is it like last year?" He asked.

"Not quite… I'm using it less often, which is good. I also only use it at night now, when no one is around. Which at least means that I'm less likely to get spotted."

"Well, greasy old Snape still found a way to catch you." He said, smirking at her.

Hermione gave him a stern look.

"That's _Professor_ Snape, Harry. Besides, he isn't actually all that greasy." Hermione said to him. Harry only laughed in return.

"He is a bit 'Mione."

"No really, I think it's just the potions fumes. Whenever I've seen him in the evenings, he's always looked clean. It makes sense if you think about it, he's surrounded by them the entire day. He must just shower in the evenings sometime after dinner." She said, defending her comment.

Harry wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Do I need to be concerned that you're thinking of our potions professor in the shower?" He asked her.

Hermione laughed in disbelief, her eyebrows rising. "Not like that! Don't be silly Harry." She replied, playfully swatting him on the shoulder.

"Thank god, not sure how I'd cope if you developed a crush on _him._ I know you like an older man, but that would be a step too far." He grinned at her, poking fun at her relationship with Krum.

"Yes, you'd be right there." She giggled in response. She liked that when she spent time with Harry, she still heard muggle phrases such as 'thank God' instead of 'thank Merlin', it was only a small detail, but it made something about his company feel homely. Whilst Harry wasn't muggleborn, the fact that he had been raised as a muggle meant that her transition into the wizarding world felt a little less lonesome.

"Do you like using the time-turner?" He asked her, turning the conversation more serious again. Hermione hesitated as she thought about his question.

"It has its pros and cons. I enjoy that I'm able to have time seemingly at my disposal, but it doesn't really work like that… not really. I'm just borrowing time. For example, it took me two years of my life to finish third year. Life may go on around me at a slower pace, but my body ages regardless." She said a little sadly, staring off into the distance. Harry squeezed her shoulder, embracing her in a brief hug.

"Does that mean you're 16 now?" He asked. She simply nodded in response. There wasn't much else she could say. "Does anyone else know?"

"Only you. Dumbledore might, but I only say that because he seems to know everything. I'm going to tell him, I just need to wait for the right moment." She replied.

"I won't tell anyone then." He said, his voice firm.

"Thank you, Harry." She smiled at her friend, before standing up. "Right! We have about 20 minutes left, so let's get in our last bit of practise before Easter!" She took his wrist and dragged him up from where he was sitting.

Harry followed her with renewed energy, returning Hermione's smile.

The pair ended up duelling for an additional hour before heading back to their dormitory. They were thankful that the empty classroom they had been loaned was so close to the Gryffindor common room – it made sneaking back beyond curfew a little less risky.

* * *

It was May 17th and Hermione was walking towards the library to do some last-minute reading before she went to bed. She had just had a session with Professor McGonagall on how to transfigure an item so it would hold more space. She had called it an 'Undetectable Extension Charm' and Hermione was to practise the spell in her own time. McGonagall had recommended a couple of books to her which discussed the spell in greater detail. It was a fascinating charm, and it went a long way in explaining how so many witches and wizards managed to look like they were always carrying so little.

For her final term of the year Dumbledore had told Hermione that she would spend this term learning a few different transfiguration charms which may come in useful over the next few years. He wanted her to build on her existing skills with some more practical day-to-day spells. Her weekly sessions with Harry had also ended this term. The Headmaster had told her that it would be a demanding period for her friend, what with exams and the final task of the tournament on the horizon. Instead, she would learn these charms from Professor McGonagall in preparation for a time where she may need them. Fortunately, this also demanded less work from her too, allowing her to devote some additional time to her own preparation for exams – she was _very_ aware of how quickly they were approaching.

Apparently, Dumbledore had told her professor that she was developing a keen interest in Transfiguration and so was looking for some one-on-one tuition. He had suggested that Hermione learned some charms that weren't taught on the curriculum but would be useful 'real world' skills, in the hope this would nurture her newfound love for the subject. It had gone straight to her professor's head and she had spent the first lesson talking to her about all the career options she could pursue with a further qualification in the subject; Hermione had no other choice but to go along with it.

It had felt rather strange not seeing Professor Snape every fortnight initially. It had become a sort of routine, and it had at felt quite jarring to be making her way to the Transfiguration classroom on Wednesday evenings, rather than the Potions classroom. Her sessions with McGonagall were significantly shorter too – they were only half an hour long. This made sense however, as you did not need an additional body present to efficiently practice transfiguration spells – unlike most spells based in the Defence Against the Dark Arts.

She found that she rather missed Professor Snape's approach to teaching, at least in the context of one-to-one tuition. McGonagall was far kinder to her, and regularly praised her for her performance and ability – but this was starting to get a little boring. She liked that she had to work for Snape's praise, it meant that if he gave it out, she had really earned it. Although, she did think it would be a little more pleasant if his praise wasn't almost always followed by some kind of biting remark. It didn't irritate her like it used to though, she was used to his snarky temperament at this point.

He went into such depth about what he was teaching her. There had been a couple of occasions where they had lost an hour just talking about the magical theory behind the spells he was going through – he seemed to have a real love for the subject. His eyes would soften when he would go on detailed tangents talking about the intricate art of darker magic. The calmer expression would always make him look much younger and more approachable; it was just slightly unnerving it was a consequence of him talking about casting magic that had the potential to injure others.

She had been a bit disappointed to learn she would no longer have an excuse to talk to him – he was an intelligent man, and she would have loved further opportunities to pick his brain.

Hermione cast a disillusionment charm around herself once she decided there was no one looking at her and started to flick through the catalogue of books on the library bookshelves. Once she found the tomes that she was looking for she went to her favourite spot and got herself comfortable. She would stay here for a few hours before heading back to her room, ignoring the curfew.

Although she did not need to use the time-turner as often this term, she found it difficult resisting the urge not to. It was so simple to just add a few hours here and there to her day, and it meant that she was significantly less stressed. She thought that she may as well make the most of her access to the device for as long as she could; she knew it was a privilege that wouldn't last forever.

* * *

It was midnight on June 25th, and it had been an unbelievable, horrifying 5 hours. Hermione was struggling to shake the image of a bloodied Harry clutching the lifeless corpse of Cedric Diggory from her mind – but to no avail. She suspected that would be an image that would be permanently imprinted in her brain.

She was sat on the chair next to Harry's hospital bed. It was past curfew, but she had disillusioned herself to avoid being seen. She sat with her legs brought up to her chest, one hand resting on her knee, and the other resting on Harry's arm. He had been administered a strong dose of Dreamless Sleep, and so was in an almost comatose state for the time being.

She had waited until the teachers had left his bedside before sneaking in to sit beside him. Although he had been her best friend since her first year at Hogwarts, she felt as if she'd grown even closer to him this year. It was likely a direct consequence of the increased amount of time just the two of them had spent together, alongside Ron's determination to be a bit of a prat this year. He truly felt like family to her, like the brother she never had.

Before he had returned from the maze, she was worried something awful had happened as he had been gone for so long. Then finally he arrived, but he was coated in blood and it made her fear for the worst - although the reality was hardly any better. She didn't really know Cedric, but he seemed like a nice boy. He didn't deserve to die. _He's back,_ she thought to herself _, this is real._ She wiped an escaped tear from her cheek and breathed in deeply. She had been trying desperately not to cry – she was braver than this, stronger; or at least that's what she kept telling herself.

She suddenly heard the doors to the infirmary open. She cursed to herself internally, why couldn't she just be left in peace? She tried to keep herself as still as possible, as this increased the effectiveness of the chameleon-like effect of the disillusionment charm.

It was Professor Snape approaching. He came to stand in front of Harry's bed, staring at him. After a few long seconds his gaze came to fall where she sat.

"Reveal yourself." He said in a slow, silken voice. Hermione obeyed his order, hating how good an eye he apparently had for detecting the charm.

"Ah, Miss Granger. I wondered." He said, his voice sounding tired.

"I'm sorry Sir, I'll make my way to bed immediately." She sighed, standing up. She prayed that he did not sign her up for detention for the following year before it even had a chance to begin.

"You may stay if you wish to. If another staff member comes though, you'll disillusion yourself straight away. Understood?"

"Yes. Thank you." She said sitting back down, surprised at his generosity. She couldn't help but wonder why he was allowing her to stay here - it was already midnight. She knew better than to question it though, it would likely result in him changing his mind.

Severus walked over to where there was a stack of chairs and brought one over to Harry's bedside. He sat about a metre away from Hermione. The two stayed seated in silence for a few minutes.

"Did you know? Well, of course you didn't _know_ , but did you suspect him? Professor Moody?" Hermione blurted out, turning her body to look directly at her professor. He stared back at her for a moment, a blank expression on his face.

"No. I knew someone was brewing Polyjuice potion, but I did not expect it to be another professor. Although, hindsight is a wonderful thing. I'm unsure how I missed it now."

"Who did you expect? If you don't mind my asking, Sir." Hermione asked shyly. Snape looked at her for a moment, seemingly debating whether to answer her query.

"I was certain it was your friend, Potter." He answered, with a small nod in Harry's direction.

" _Harry?"_ Hermione couldn't stop herself from keeping the surprise out of her voice. "I don't think he'd even be able to brew Polyjuice potion?" Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"Well I wasn't necessarily certain _he_ was the one brewing it. Don't think I'm unaware of your little side project in your second year." He said harshly, defending his suspicions.

Hermione looked sheepish in return. _How did he learn about that?_ She wondered. "Did news get back to you about my hospital visit as a human-feline hybrid then?" She asked, looking down at the floor, embarrassed. She didn't want him to think she was unable to brew the potion properly, but she didn't want to admit the full extent of her crimes.

"In a way." He drawled. "Although I was made aware that you successfully brewed the potion for Potter and Weasley. Rather impressive – and you know I don't say that lightly. How did you get the hairs?"

After deliberating whether or not she should tell him, Hermione went on to describe the trap that her and the boys had left for Crabbe and Goyle, explaining that the method they used meant they not only got access to the hairs that they needed, but it also provided them with a window of time in which they were able to interrogate Malfoy. Severus cringed upon hearing how easy it had apparently been to execute her plan.

"They've never been bright boys – not that you are to repeat that." He said, giving her a pointed look. "A rather cunning idea though Miss Granger – how Slytherin of you."

Hermione pulled a face at what she considered to be an insult. He chuckled softly in response.

"Although, if the Malfoy family were direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin, I think the entire wizarding community would have been made well aware decades ago. That's a family that ensures everyone knows how pure their bloodline is – to do that, you need to have it on public record who your ancestors are." Snape pointed out to her.

"Well yes, we were only 13 at the time though – in fact, I think the boys were only 12. I don't think we'd given it much deep thought." She smiled, although it didn't reach her eyes. Severus did not respond, he just merely looked at her.

"Do you believe in blood purity, Sir?" She asked him, curious to hear his opinion as head of Slytherin house.

"No of course not." He scoffed and motioned his head towards her "I would say that you are proof of that belief not having any merit."

"Is that two compliments in one day, Sir?" She said with a smirk, teasing him. He glared at her in return.

"You really are insufferable Miss Granger." He replied with a sniff.

"That sounds a lot more like the professor I know." She replied, now outrightly grinning. Snape rolled his eyes.

* * *

Although he wouldn't admit it to anyone, Severus had almost missed his talks with the girl this term. Perhaps that's why he was indulging her in such a frivolous conversation now – or perhaps he just wanted a few moments to escape the reality of the situation surrounding them.

Things would be very different now that The Dark Lord was back, and being sat here, talking to – no, joking with - a muggle-born Gryffindor student was something he would never be able to publicly do. Though it was uncharacteristic for him to joke with any student, regardless of their background.

Severus had been unable to sleep, there was no way for him to take his mind off the fact that The Dark Lord had returned, and so he had hoped that a walk through the school would work as a distraction – something to clear his mind. Suffice it to say that it had not worked, and his mind kept drifting back to Potter. He had only come to the hospital wing to check on him. He could barely stand the child, but he was still Lily's son. He knew that the boy would be asleep, and so there should not have been a risk of anyone knowing he had visited him.

He had not expected to see Miss Granger here by his bedside. The papers had reported that she had been involved in a love triangle with Potter this year, not that he had cared to find out whether it was just the Daily Prophet's usual drivel or not – but perhaps that was why she had snuck in to be by his side. Or maybe she was just a very concerned friend, who also couldn't sleep tonight.

He found himself talking to her until it was 3am. He had asked her about how she thought she had done on her exams, what her plans were for the summer, about anything really – any alternative to ignore the cold reality of what would face him in the morning. It was the distraction that he craved – even if it did have to come from a fourth-year student. She in turn asked him about his plans and told him about the reading she had been carrying out for her sessions with Minerva, and what she had discovered the other week about a spell he had discussed with her months back. He gave her a couple of further book recommendations, and where she could find them in the library. One was in the restricted section, and whilst he did not tell her how she could get to it, he was sure she already knew a way. It was only when she yawned that he thought to look at the clock.

"It really is getting late now Miss Granger, you should be going to bed." He said matter-of-factly. He wasn't entirely sure how he had managed to spend almost three hours talking to her without realising the time. She nodded sleepily before standing up. "Oh, and do not tell anyone about this conversation." He told her sternly; it was not a request.

"I understand. I hope you sleep well." She said with a small smile, already half asleep. She squeezed his shoulder as she walked past him. It was a gesture she wouldn't think twice of doing to her friends, which is perhaps why she did it to him without thinking. If she had been more awake, Granger would have never been bold enough to touch him.

"Goodnight, Granger." He said quietly. His hand came up to feel the area she had touched as soon as her back was turned. He watched her leave the room. _Merlin, it's a sad state of affairs when I must spend my night talking to a child,_ he thought to himself as he stood up to make his way to his own rooms, shaking his head.


	5. Chapter 5

Later that same morning at around 9am Hermione was sat in the Great Hall eating her breakfast. As there were no more lessons for the year and it was a weekend, breakfast ran a little later than it ordinarily would. Today would be a day of packing for the student body as tomorrow the train would be leaving to take them all back home.

She needed to find Dumbledore after she finished eating so she could tell him about her age, otherwise she feared she would not get another chance before the start of her fifth year. She had turned 17 in early May and was looking forward to being able to continue using her magic outside of Hogwarts' walls for the first time in her life, but she couldn't imagine the Headmaster would be too pleased if he wasn't made aware.

She had a trip to France planned with her parents this summer and thought it would be the perfect opportunity for her to sneak off and practise her apparition, seeing as she couldn't take any formal tests. She had studied the subject endlessly and had found the anti-apparition wards in Hogwarts rather frustrating, as they meant that she had been unable to physically practise.

She looked up at the head table. Dumbledore wasn't there so it was possible that he might be in his office. The first thing she would do once she left breakfast would be to try there. After the events of the previous evening he must have been awfully busy, but she didn't think this conversation could wait. Whilst scanning the table she also noticed that Snape wasn't there either, perhaps he had already eaten, or he had chosen to eat in his rooms. In the light of day, she couldn't quite believe that she had spent so much time talking to him. It was one thing for them to talk strictly about studying and magic, but the conversation last night hadn't been entirely like that… they spoke about personal matters, about their lives. Hermione felt like she had been getting to know _him._ He had seemed so weary last night, perhaps his guard had been down and that's why he had spoken to her.

She didn't really know what to make of it, she just hoped that he wouldn't regret talking her too much. It had been nice, something that in hindsight she felt like she needed in that moment. The idea that she may not see him until the following year felt a little strange, despite her not seeing all that much of him throughout the last term.

"I'm going to go back to my room, I still have a lot of packing to do." She blurted out to Ron as she stood up.

"You do? Normally you're the first to be finished!" He replied, voice muffled as he spoke through a mouthful of food.

"I know… but things have been a little… hectic this year."

"Right. No of course. Understandable really." Ron replied, his tone suddenly serious as he realised that she was referring to the tournament. Hermione wondered if he had forgotten about last night's events for a moment.

"I also need to say goodbye to Viktor today, and well, I don't want to have a whole pile of packing up to do in the evening." She told him. Over the last couple of months, he had been a lot kinder about her relationship with the quidditch player, so she had felt more comfortable talking about him.

"I erm … I don't suppose if – that is if you don't mind – you could possibly ask for his signature? For me?" He asked her sheepishly, knowing how much the request had contrasted with his opinion of the sports star over the last several months. Hermione knew that he had been a big fan of him prior to his visiting Hogwarts and dating her, so she could see the sense behind his request.

"Yeah, I'll see what I can do." She said smiling at him before turning to leave the hall.

* * *

Hermione was stood outside the door leading into Dumbledore's office, having already given the correct password to the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the stairway. She knocked before gently opening the door.

"Sorry to interrupt Headmaster, would it be possible if I could speak to you today?" She asked as she entered. Surveying the scene before her, she saw that Dumbledore was standing just behind his desk and Snape was stood in the centre of the room. It appeared as if her entrance had stopped Snape from pacing the floor of Dumbledore's office. She smiled at him, but was rewarded with an icy glare in return.

"Yes of course. If you would wait outside for a moment, I can be with you in 5 minutes or so." Dumbledore replied, smiling softly at her. Hermione nodded and left his office to wait in the narrow stairway.

Several minutes later Snape burst through the office doors so abruptly that it made Hermione jump. He swept straight past her, not sparing a single glance in her direction. His face was contorted into an angry sneer; it had been a while since she had seen him quite so unapproachable. She'd deduced that greeting him would be a mistake, so she stayed silent. Once he left the stairway she walked back into Dumbledore's office.

"How can I help you today, my dear?" Dumbledore said kindly upon her entrance, now sitting in his chair. Hermione thought the elderly man looked tired.

"I think I need to tell you something." She said nervously as she sat down on the chair opposite his.

She went on to explain the full extent of her time-turning over the last couple of years. She told him how she had aged an additional year during her third year, and that this usage had only been halved throughout the current year, which in turn meant that she came of age on 12th May. Hermione apologised profusely as she tried to reason why she hadn't said anything sooner, pleading with him not to hold it against her.

"Miss Granger, please don't fret. Thank you for coming to inform me when you did. I was aware that you would have no doubt aged at a faster rate than your peers, but I'll admit I did not realise the full extent of how often you had used the device during your third year. I think you showed restraint this year, which tells me you understand that it had perhaps been overused the previous year." Dumbledore told her.

Hermione was starting to feel the sensation of a great weight being lifted off her shoulders. This had been a matter that had been troubling her for the last few months, and she had feared the headmaster would have been cross with her.

"In fact, I think we could use this to our advantage. As you will no longer have the trace on you, I think it would be advantageous to use this summer to further work on your magical abilities. It would seem a shame to throw away this wasted opportunity. I will talk to Alastor Moody and arrange for him to give you some combat training for a month or two. With the war very much here now Miss Granger, it is imperative we do all that we can to get in front of it." The headmaster told her, his expression suggesting he was deep in thought.

Hermione hadn't expected this to be the Headmaster's response at all. She already had plans for the summer, and whilst she loathed to disappoint the man in front of her, she could not cancel on her parents. There was no way they would consent to her getting out of this holiday – and besides, she wanted to go. After yesterday's events she could do with a chance to forget about the gruesome things that were starting to happen around her.

"I'm very sorry Sir, but I have already arranged to go on holiday with my parents. I realise that may sound a little trivial, but they resent how little time they already get to spend with me… there's no way they'd allow me to refuse to go with them. Especially so out of the blue." She told him, her brows furrowed in thought.

"We've just discussed the matter of you owning a time-turner have we not? Once your holiday has ended you will be able to turn back to the start of your summer with no issue." Dumbledore replied matter-of-factly.

"Sir, are you asking me to go back in time by _two months?_ " Hermione couldn't quite believe her ears, this was someone who had just learned that she was significantly older than she ought to be, and he was recommending that she should make that gap wider.

"Miss Granger, you're not a child anymore, and we need as many adults to aid in this fight as possible. Unfortunately, due to your unique circumstances you have not received the training I had envisioned for you at your current age, despite your additional tuition with your professors. However, I feel with some full-time training and support we will be able to get you to the standard we need you; after all, you are nothing if not a fast learner."

He always seemed to have a way to highlight the logic in a situation, and Hermione struggled to think of a counter argument. She had felt self-conscious that her education was lacking for her age, despite her non-stop efforts to prevent it from being such, and so perhaps this was the solution to that problem.

"But where should I even meet you Headmaster? If I do this?"

"I want you to arrive at Hogsmeade on let's say… 1st July at 9am. You are to wait at the station. I will arrange for someone to collect you. Oh, and I should advise you Miss Granger that your time-turner usage is on a strictly need-to-know basis. This is to remain a secret unless I specify otherwise. Does anyone else know?"

"Only Harry Sir, and he doesn't know the full extent of how often I've used it. He knows it took me twice as long to complete my third year, but that's as far as his knowledge goes."

"You may continue to keep him as informed as you see fit. I think it is perhaps wise that you have someone that you can confide in. However, I suggest you practise caution whenever discussing the matter – you never know who could be listening." Dumbledore said, tone suggesting there was no room for argument.

"I understand. I suppose I'll see you again in two months' time." Hermione said, feeling unsure of herself.

"It'll merely be a week for the rest of us, but I hope you have a wonderful holiday Miss Granger. I imagine it will be the last opportunity you get to enjoy such a thing for quite a few years to come."

Hermione nodded and left the Headmaster's office, thanking him for his time. A quick spell to inform her of the time confirmed that it was now 11am – if she didn't get a move on with her packing now, she would no doubt run out of time. She walked quickly through the corridors and headed towards her rooms.

* * *

It was now August 9th and Hermione had been enjoying her holiday in the sunny south of France for a little over a month now.

Since her parents had become partners in a private dental practise they ran with a friend, they had been able to start taking longer, more extravagant holidays. There were other employees on hand that could handle the day-to-day running of the firm, meaning that they could take a long holiday each summer without them being missed from the business too much. In case of an emergency they had left behind a landline contact number for the house that they were staying in.

It was the first time Hermione had gone on such a long holiday with them. She was ordinarily used to their holidays only lasting a couple of weeks, but she was rather enjoying this. It was like she was able to live an entirely different life for a short burst of time. Perhaps this sensation had been amplified by the fact that she was now free to use her magic outside of Hogwarts without consequence. She felt as if she could very much get used to this new-found freedom – even if deep down she knew it would be taken away from her in a matter of weeks.

Hermione's parents and herself were staying in a small rented home that was delightfully close to the beach. Her parents had allowed her to have more freedom this holiday, and so she could stay by herself in the house when they would go out for drinks each night together. Some days she had even been given permission to have free roam of the beach during the day.

Hermione wondered if her being away at a boarding school had made it difficult for them to know what to do with a child when she was at home, but she took their leniency as a blessing and did not question it.

What Jean and Graham Granger didn't know was that as soon as they left Hermione alone in the evenings, she apparated away to a different part of Nice and took the opportunity to explore her newfound womanhood. She had transfigured a neglected store loyalty card of her mother's and turned it into a fake ID so she could explore the nightlife of France without issue.

The first week of Hermione's holiday had been spent getting to grips with apparition. She had been rather fortunate and had no mishaps so far, but she had been travelling only a small distance each time. Her reading on the subject did suggest that it wouldn't be much more difficult once she was back home to travel to other parts within the United Kingdom, which made Hermione feel a little more confident about the trip she would need to take to Hogsmeade from her home in Hampstead at the end of August.

Despite her turning 17, Hermione often felt more childish than she truly was as most of her friends had only recently turned 15. It was understandable, but at times frustrating, that those around her also spoke to her like a child. The only person who had treated her as if she was older than her official age was Viktor – she wondered if he had sensed that something was different about her.

She felt no guilt in lying to her parents about her whereabouts because she reasoned that taking this holiday as a time to experience an adventure of her own making was simply self-care, in its own sort of way. Each night she would lock her door to reduce the odds of her parents noticing her missing whereabouts, and would use her magic to aid her in sneaking back in.

Although it had not been too long ago, Viktor and Hermione had separated from Hogwarts as just friends, and so she felt no shame in pursuing someone else romantically. Three weeks ago, she had started seeing a muggle man by the name of Hugo Bernard who was 20 years old. It was only a casual relationship, and Hugo knew she would soon be going home, but it was _exciting._

Hermione had liked her relationship with Viktor, and although she enjoyed his company it had never really felt… thrilling to her. She didn't know if she just had a better connection with Hugo, or if it was the added element of needing to sneak around to evade being caught out by her parents, but she was definitely having fun.

Hugo had lived in Nice his entire life. She had met him in a local bar, and he had been the one to approach her offering to buy her a drink. Whilst she had told the bartenders she was 18, she had quietly confessed to him she was only 17. She didn't want him to start anything with her if he wasn't aware of her age, but it hadn't phased him. In fact, he had thanked her for her honesty. Despite the short length of the relationship, Hermione had already gone back to his small, poky apartment. She had been determined to live in the moment this summer, as she knew Dumbledore was correct when he had told her it was unlikely she would get to experience such a care free time for a while.

Part of her had felt like everything was moving _very_ quickly with Hugo, but she told herself what she was doing was just a normal part of growing up and that she _wasn't_ a child anymore. A week ago, she had lost his virginity to him in his bedroom. It had been clumsy and a little painful, but she had read that the first time was never pleasant. It had only been their third date.

She had fumbled around with Viktor on the rare occasion that they had managed to get some privacy, but it never gone anywhere near as far. They had only groped each other a few times during particularly heated kisses. Hermione had to admit that she never truly felt the burning desire that she had craved with him.

Tonight, she was out for dinner with Hugo at a local restaurant near his apartment. It was only a small place and they were seated outside on a tiny table that barely had enough space for two; she had noticed such seating arrangements were common where they were staying. _Perhaps it's a European thing_ , she mused. Hugo had very kindly offered to pay for their meal.

Hugo had short, dirty blonde hair and lightly tanned skin with pale blue eyes. He had a small amount of stubble on his face, and whilst not exceptionally so, he was reasonably attractive. His build was slim with very little muscle, and if Hermione guessed she would place his height at 5'9". Although he wasn't tall, he was significantly taller than her own height of 5'3".

"So, how much longer are you in the city for?" Hugo asked her with a lopsided smile as he topped up her wine glass, something she had noticed he was often keen to do.

"I'll be leaving on the 25th, so a couple of weeks from now." She replied.

"I will make sure to make the most of our time together then." He told her, before leaning forward to kiss her hand. Hermione felt herself blush, but she couldn't be sure whether the warmth was just the effect of the wine.

* * *

It was early in the morning on Thursday 30th August and Hermione had managed to convince her parents that she would be spending a couple of days with the Weasley family at the burrow before heading to King's Cross on the Saturday.

Her parents had readily agreed to this as they still had a lot of work to catch up on due to their two-month holiday; taking Hermione to the station themselves would make this more difficult, even if they did already live in London. She assured them that she would be taking the train to Exeter station, and the Weasley family would pick her up from there.

Hermione had packed up all her belongings the previous night ready for her task at hand. She said goodbye to her parents and began walking down her road to find somewhere secluded. Once she was confident that she would not be seen she took out her time-turner from its place beneath her shirt and took a deep breath. She spun it carefully 60 times counter-clockwise. She had never spun the device in this direction before, as she had only ever worked in hours rather than days. As this was easily the biggest time-jump she had ever made she was very nervous that she would do it incorrectly.

She felt the recognisable pull of the time-turner in her sternum – it was not dissimilar from apparition - except this time it was much worse. Upon her landing she immediately threw up on the ground in front of her. Hermione had _never_ been sick from time travel before. She cast a quick charm that told her the exact time and date so she could confirm she had done the journey correctly. It was indeed 8:10am on July 1st, 1995. She breathed a sigh of relief. _One step down,_ she thought to herself.

Once she collected herself and vanished her sick from the ground in front of her she apparated to a side path that was just off Honeydukes sweet shop. She hadn't been to Hogsmeade station before so she could not apparate straight there. She would need to walk the remaining distance.

Hermione learned that apparently, time travel and apparition make for a rather sickly combination. She threw up the second she arrived in Hogsmeade. Fortunately, it was still early in the day and no one was around to see her in such a state. If anyone had been near enough to recognise her, she would have struggled to provide answers as to why she was suddenly appearing in places as an underage witch.

She began the 15-minute walk to the Hogsmeade station, walking slowly as to try not to upset her stomach any further. With any luck she would be able to sit down for a moment before she was greeted at the station by whoever Dumbledore had sent.

Once she arrived, she took a seat on one of the nearby metal benches and waited. The station was much smaller than she had expected, perhaps the smallest station she had ever seen. She sat looking at the floor and internally prayed that her sickness would soon dissipate.

"Hermione Granger." A gruff male voice said, interrupting her musings.

Hermione looked up to see Mad-Eye Moody standing in front of her.

"Professor! Hello." Hermione replied, a little startled. She stood up quickly and smoothed her clothes out.

"No need to call me Professor girl, I never taught you." He said with a sniff. Hermione instantly felt a wave of guilt for bringing his ordeal up. She took a good look at the man standing before her. He was skinnier than the Moody that she was accustomed to seeing – but then again according to Harry he had been stored away in a tiny box for the better part of a year. It would make sense for him to be looking a little frailer. Otherwise, he looked the same. She found it a little eerie.

"Where are we going to then?" Hermione asked, looking around her.

"My home." He said, his tone short. He certainly sounded like the man who had impersonated him throughout her fourth year. It was impressive that Barty Crouch Junior had managed to imitate his voice so accurately, if a little scary that he so easily was able to swap places with an experienced auror.

He grabbed her hand without warning and Hermione felt the all too familiar pull from her stomach as they apparated. Hermione had never travelled using side-along apparition before, the closest thing she had used was a port-key, but she had heard it was the worst way to travel. The feeling of nausea quickly crept back up and she was sick, again, upon her arrival.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" She exclaimed as she bent over, holding her stomach to support herself. "I promise I'm not normally this bad at travel." She was starting to feel rather sorry for herself.

"Yes, I imagine you're feeling a little more sensitive than you ordinarily would. Albus told me about your time-travel, I imagine going two months back in time didn't make you feel too good." He said to her, the scarred remains of his nose crinkling in distaste.

"Not quite, no." Hermione replied as she stood back up. Her face was pale, and her eyes were red from the retching.

"Dangerous stuff, time-travel. You should be very careful with it. Awful things-"

"-Have happened to witches and wizards who have travelled back in time. I know. I've heard all of the warnings." Hermione said, interrupting him. Her sickness was making her feel a little too impatient for this conversation. She didn't mean to be rude, but she had been using the bloody thing long enough to know about the dangers.

Mad-Eye merely grunted in response and started walking to a nearby cottage. It was a shabby little thing, with blue window frames and a matching door. She could see that the windows had been boarded up from the inside, including the small circular window that was on the front of the door. The garden was very overgrown and wild, with many weeds obscuring the house's faded, painted brickwork.

"Why is everything boarded up?" She asked Mad-Eye. She understood that the garden could have been left to grow because he had been away from home, but she didn't know why the windows had been covered.

"Because privacy is a necessity; you never know who could be watching you. Constant vigilance Granger." He barked at her. Hermione nodded, eyes wide with surprise at his loud answer.

Mad-Eye unlocked the blue door and waited for Hermione to pass through after him. Once inside he turned to lock the door behind her. Hermione was intrigued by the seven different types of locks that were on the door, each one varying in colour and shape. She then watched him rebuild the magical wards he had taken down so they could enter the property. _How bizarre,_ she thought to herself.


	6. Chapter 6

The date was July 23rd and Hermione felt exhausted.

Not a day had gone by since she arrived at Mad-Eye's cottage that she had been allowed to rest for any real length of time. Apparently, there was to be no sitting down during the day unless it was for breakfast or lunch. Dinner was to be prepared and eaten between 6:00-8:00pm, and she was expected to be in bed by 8:30pm, with an alarm set to wake up at 4:30am. When Dumbledore had told her that she would be spending a couple of months training with the auror she didn't realise he meant military style training.

In addition, there was to be strictly no time travel during her stay at his home, and he had told her he had wards set in place to prevent her from doing as such – she took him at his word and didn't attempt to deviate from his rules.

Each day they duelled in a room she assumed was once meant to be a living room, but there was certainly no comfortable furniture in the space. The room was barren and large, ideal for duelling. He had at least had the forethought to place a cushioning charm on the floor, which Hermione had been grateful for on several occasions; not that it made falling over entirely pain free, mind.

Her entire body ached, and her mind felt fatigued from over two weeks of being constantly on guard. She had not predicted that the words 'constant vigilance' would haunt her so throughout her stay in his home. It was a mantra she couldn't escape. In order to hit his point home, he would sometimes attack her when her back was turned; this could be when she was doing something as trivial as making herself a cup of tea in the evening. There was no rhythm to these random attacks, sometimes they would happen multiple times a day, and sometimes days went by where she would be safe. The idea was that she always kept her eyes peeled for a possible ambush.

There was no room in his tight schedule for her to relax in this house, and it was starting to set her on edge. She wasn't surprised Mad-Eye lived his life in a constant state of paranoia if this was how he conducted himself in his own home.

Hermione had also underestimated how much her physical fitness would suffer from spending two months on holiday. Fortunately, when training begun Mad-Eye himself was still weak from his ordeal with Barty Crouch Junior, so she at least had a window of about a week where she had been able to focus on regaining some of her strength back as Mad-Eye settled back into regular training himself.

She had returned to carrying out daily exercises to keep her strength up, except Moody refused to allow her the weekend to rest. Apparently, danger wasn't resting, so neither should she. She couldn't help but notice he didn't subject himself to the same rigorous fitness routine however. As a compromise they had agreed on weekends that she only went jogging for 20 minutes and didn't do any other physical activity outside of her training sessions with him.

Hermione was counting down the days until August was over, and she could go back to Hogwarts where everything was a _lot_ more laid back.

* * *

On August 29th at around 12:40pm Hermione was eating a ham sandwich for her lunch, seated opposite Moody in his small kitchen. She was allowed a 30-minute window for her lunch time and then she would not get another chance to rest until dinner.

Hermione was very aware of the fact that it was late August now, and she should be returning to Hogwarts in a matter of days. She had found that at some point during the last month she had settled into Mad-Eye's routine a little more, and it wasn't quite as tiresome now. It was still hard work however, and each few days he found a way to make their training more difficult.

"Am I staying here until Saturday?" She asked the surly man, breaking the silence.

"What's happening Saturday?" Came his gruff response.

"That's the first day back at Hogwarts?" Hermione spoke as if she were stating a fact as obvious as the sky being blue. _How has he managed to forget?_ Hermione thought to herself.

"So it is. You will not be returning to Hogwarts just yet. Your training will run until September 30th, at which point you will take us both back in time to July 31st and you will be staying with The Order at HQ." Mad-Eye said simply.

"What? I don't understand why, how come you haven't told me this until now?" She asked dumbfounded, agitated by his attitude. She felt like she had been kept in the dark. Dumbledore had told her that this would only last a month or two – not three months. Also, how could she be expected to go back in time _again?_

"Why didn't you ask me?" He countered calmly. "You should never feel entitled to information Granger, it is up to you to seek it out." He said, waggling his finger at her.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Did _everything_ have to be an extravagant life lesson with this man?

"What is 'The Order'?" Hermione asked, trying to understand exactly what he was saying to her. She hadn't heard the name before. She deduced that it must be some sort of organisation if they had a headquarters.

"Short for The Order of the Phoenix. A team of people that aided the fight against You-Know-Who last time around. Dumbledore has been bringing people back together now that _he_ has returned. I've heard that you're familiar with the Weasley family, they're members too."

That was the first thing Mad-Eye had told her since this conversation had begun that at least made her feel more at ease. Hermione had already gone four months without seeing or hearing anything from her friends. She had been unable to write to them from France, and it went without saying that she couldn't write to them from Moody's house even if there had been access to an owl – which there was not. No one could know she was here.

Where she had enjoyed her holiday in France, she had found her stay with the auror rather isolating and she desperately wished to see her friends again. Learning that she would need to wait another month was not welcoming news, but at least she could see them again before returning to Hogwarts.

"How can I be expected to go back in time _again_ though? You're asking to put three versions of me into the world for the duration of August. You said yourself that time travel comes with its risks. It's dangerous for me to go back to the same point in time repeatedly." She told Moody, hoping to reason with him.

"It's not me who's arranged this girl. It's Dumbledore. You need to trust his larger plan – especially as a member of The Order. I'm just the messenger."

"I never agreed to be part of this organisation, I only agreed to train with you over summer." Hermione tried to explain, again confused by what he was telling her.

"I think you did girl when you signed yourself up to help Albus. You would not be here with me now if you weren't a piece in his puzzle. I'm sure you'll get an opportunity to speak to him in September. Can't imagine you'll see much of him at headquarters."

Hermione nodded, despite being unhappy with his answer. She looked down at the sandwich in front of her, appetite lost at the thought of going back in time again. It didn't feel as bad doing the odd few hours here and there, but this was different.

Goodness knows how she was going to pretend to her friends that it had only been a month since she had last seen them, when in reality it would be five. _What if they notice?_ She asked herself.

"Oh, and I wouldn't run off telling your friends about your induction into The Order. You can't be a member if you aren't of age, and officially you're only 15."

 _Wonderful._ Hermione thought. _Another secret._

* * *

It was August 1st _again._ Hermione was getting rather sick and tired of this month, and desperately couldn't wait until it was finally over for another year.

She had arrived at 12 Grimmauld Place yesterday with Moody and was sick, again, from the time travel and then side-long apparition. He had at least looked a bit peaky himself and had made them wait about half an hour before they showed their faces inside. Hermione supposed Mad-Eye didn't want people thinking he would be feeling sensitive after something as simple as apparition; it wouldn't fit with his tough aesthetic, and he could hardly tell anyone about the time travel.

It had been wonderful to see the Weasley family again, and especially her cat Crookshanks. Ron had very kindly offered to look after her cat for the duration of her holiday in France, which had been unexpected. She wondered if he still felt bad after his attitude towards her cat during their third year.

The story had been that she had her holiday in France cut short so she could stay at headquarters with everyone else. It was explained by Arthur Weasley that as she was close to Harry, Dumbledore wanted her here for her safety.

It had been so long since she'd seen any of them, so she made sure each family member got a big, warm hug from her. They probably thought she was a bit mad – looking so excited to see them after only a month, but she found she just didn't care.

Mrs Weasley told her how thin she was looking and that she needed a hearty meal. It was slightly rude, but she knew the Weasley matron meant well, and it had been a long time since anyone had fussed over her; Hermione found she had missed the feeling. She had been a little off with Hermione during the height of Rita's nasty articles back in Easter, but Ron had assured her that he had explained the truth behind the situation, and seemingly it had worked to iron the tension away.

After her training at Moody's she had become significantly leaner, but that was to be expected as she had been carrying out daily exercise. Hermione knew that she wasn't underweight, and she had gathered over the years that Molly thought most people should be a little fuller around the middle.

She was just hoping any changes in her person weren't overly noticeable. It would be tricky explaining any differences, and it was too difficult for her to look at herself objectively to know if anything had really changed. Sirius had already commented on 'how much she had grown' but she hadn't seen him since March, so that could at least be explained by some time passing. Such an excuse wouldn't work on Ron, his siblings, and Harry however.

Harry hadn't arrived yet, and none of the younger Weasley family members seemed to know why. The adults certainly weren't telling them anything, this 'Order' was a lot more secretive than Hermione had anticipated.

She supposed it made sense, it wouldn't be a very effective organisation to fight Voldemort if it was easily infiltrated. It was just rather frustrating though seeing as she was indeed of age, and allegedly a member herself, that she couldn't know what was happening. Hopefully she would see Dumbledore soon and he would be able to tell her more. After 5 months away feeling very much like the adult she now was, the last 24 hours had felt like a quick regression to her old school-girl self. On the upside, she reasoned that Hogwarts would feel less like a culture shock by the time she spent a month here.

It was 7pm and a meeting was currently going on inside the kitchen. Hermione was sat on the stairs in the hallway, not far from the room's doorway. She was sat next to Ginny, and the pair had been there for 20 minutes already. They couldn't hear what was being said (and they had tried numerous spells attempting to amplify the sound), but they were sat staring at the door as if it would suddenly reveal the secrets inside if their gaze was intense enough.

"What do you think they could be talking about?" Ginny whispered to her, annoyed.

"Goodness knows. Must be something important though if they've gone through this much effort to hide it from us. It's not like the meeting is being held in public, they know it's only us outside, but they've still made a special effort to stop us from listening in." Hermione whispered back, leaning close towards her friend so she wouldn't be heard. Ginny nodded fervently in agreement.

Sometime later the doors burst open and several people started to trickle out of the room, talking amongst themselves.

To her surprise Hermione spotted Snape coming out of the room. She had forgotten all about him for the last few months; she had been too preoccupied with her holiday, and then with her stay at Mad-Eye's cottage. She was suddenly flooded with memories of that night they sat talking into the early hours by Harry's bedside, followed by his peculiar behaviour towards her the following morning. _I wonder if he regrets talking to me,_ she thought to herself. Her eyebrows knitted together as she pondered the strange man now stood mere metres away from her.

He turned to look at her as if on cue and held her eye contact. His face was blank for a moment or two before it contorted into a nasty scowl, clearly meant for no one but her. Hermione didn't outwardly react, but her confusion grew.

"Girls! I told you to wait in your room!" Mrs Weasley shouted at Hermione and Ginny. This snapped Hermione out of her reverie.

"But Mum-"

"No buts! Get to your room now!" The Weasley matron ordered them, waving her arms at the pair in a shooing motion.

Hermione didn't argue and stood up. She turned her head to look back in the direction of where Snape had been standing, but he was no longer there.

"Come on, let's go." Ginny said sulkily to Hermione, grabbing her by the hand to drag her towards their shared, musty bedroom.

* * *

Later that same night Severus was in his rooms pouring himself a glass of firewhisky. His mind drifted to the events that had occurred over the last month.

The Dark Lord had returned. He and several other Death Eaters had found themselves in the sticky situation of explaining why they had not tried to help their Lord during the years he had been gone, why they had denied their true involvement with him, and why they had not appeared when he first called them to the graveyard.

Fortunately, Severus had made sure he had an excuse lined up. He told him that as he had been working at Hogwarts during the Triwizard Tournament it would have been highly impractical if he had suddenly disappeared – there was no way his absence would have gone unnoticed.

He had managed to convince the Dark Lord through the skin of his teeth that his evasion of prosecution was simply testament to his ability to fool Dumbledore, and he had maintained this charade because he knew that his Lord would return, and when he did, he wanted to be prepared.

Severus had thought it was some kind of miracle that he had managed to get out of the meeting relatively unscathed; he was subjected to only a couple short rounds of the cruciatus curse. There were many other wizards and witches who weren't as lucky.

He had expected that Dumbledore would ask him to resume his status as a double spy, but it had still been unpleasant to hear it aloud. The headmaster had not wasted any time, telling him only the following morning after The Dark Lord's return what was expected of his service.

It had been a long time since he had needed to fully utilise his ability to occlude but building that skill back up had been his main priority over the last few weeks. It would not do for The Dark Lord to be able to flick through the pages of his mind like it was some cheap muggle magazine.

He was not expecting to have seen Hermione Granger that particular morning in Dumbledore's office. He had purposefully avoided attending breakfast so he could not see her. Severus had no idea what had possessed him to sit up talking to the girl until the early hours of the morning, but he needed to be clear that it was a one-off. It never would have happened had he not been subjected to an unusually distressing evening.

The fact that she had _touched_ him told Severus that she had become overly familiar with him, did she think they were _friends?_ He knew those sessions Dumbledore had forced upon him with her were bad news, clearly, she had gotten the foolish notion that he liked her. Just because she wasn't as irritating as he had first suspected, did not mean he wanted to befriend the girl.

She even had the nerve to smile at _him_ when he had been talking to the headmaster that morning. He had tried to make it very clear to her in that moment that they were not about to build any sort of camaraderie together. The whole thing had got entirely out of hand. Severus dragged his hands over his face in frustration. It had been completely unexpected to see her at Black's home earlier this evening. He had already attended a couple of Order meetings over the last month, and there definitely had been no children in the house at the time. Severus had been operating under the assumption that the house wasn't going to be used as some sort of strange hotel for the Weasley children and their friends.

Granger had told him that she was going to be in France for the entirety of her summer – Merlin knows what she was doing at headquarters. _Why was she looking at me so strangely?_ He asked himself as he considered their brief encounter. She looked as if she were considering his very existence. Perhaps she was still childish enough to find seeing a teacher outside the confines of Hogwarts shocking.

When he next saw her, he would need to ensure that she was not under any sort of illusion as to what their relationship was – he had evidently been too soft on her throughout the previous year.


	7. Chapter 7

It was August 3rd and Severus had been called back to 12 Grimmauld Place. It was uncommon for him to have to visit the dirty building so regularly, Order meetings had only been once a week so far. He was hoping that his presence wasn't going to now be demanded multiple times a week, and that this was a one-off.

Dumbledore had told him that he wanted to discuss Harry Potter at the meeting, and that it was a subject that simply couldn't wait another week. Of course, it would be Harry bloody Potter who would be ruining his summer. The headmaster had also asked him to attend slightly earlier than normal as Molly Weasley had to leave the house to run some errands, Arthur Weasley was at work, and it would leave Sirius Black by himself to handle a household of five children. It didn't shock him that Black wasn't deemed up to the task, but it had been frustrating that he was being punished for the dog's ineptitude to manage a small group of children – two of them were even of age for Merlin's sake!

As he walked through the door the smell of strong bleach accosted his large nostrils. It was a smell he hadn't come across in a long time. The elves at Hogwarts didn't use bleach, and he kept his parents' home well kept using a stasis charm when he wasn't there, so when he returned it only ever needed minimal cleaning which could be handled well enough with cleansing charms.

He made his way to the kitchen; if he was going to babysit, he was going to make sure that he would enjoy a cup of tea first. He pushed open the large wooden door leading to the kitchen and was met with the sight of a scruffy looking Hermione Granger scrubbing down the sink – at least that explained the pungent stench of bleach.

"Oh, Hello Sir!" Hermione greeted him cheerily. She stopped what she was doing and turned to face him.

"Granger. You don't seem surprised to see me?" He said, looking around the room.

"Well no, Mrs. Weasley had told us that you would be coming."

"Where are the others?"

"They're upstairs playing wizards chess with Sirius." Hermione said wrinkling her petite nose in distaste, motioning her head upwards.

"You're not with them?"

"No. The kitchen needs cleaning." She said gesturing to the room around her, flicking stray bubbles on a nearby countertop in the process. The kitchen was already in a remarkably better condition than it had been two days ago.

"Why aren't they helping you?"

"Because Sirius told us all we should be off having fun instead and shouldn't be wasting our day cleaning."

"You don't agree?" He narrowed his eyes.

"I don't live in a fantasy world, Sir. We're living here for a month, it needs to be cleaned at some point or another, I'd rather just get on with my share." Hermione turned back around and started rinsing the sink she had been scrubbing just moments before.

 _Interesting, it doesn't seem like she's overly fond of Black,_ Severus thought to himself.

Severus proceeded to open the cupboard with the teabags and started to make himself a cup of tea. He could see that she had already tidied the inside of the cupboards, as there was no longer a layer of dust on the shelves.

Whilst he waited for his tea to brew, he allowed himself a second to look at the girl. He was surprised at the difference seeing her outside of her school uniform made to her appearance, she looked older than he remembered. He wondered if she had gone to France at all, she had mentioned that she had gone to the south of the country, so he would have expected to her to look a little more tanned. Perhaps she didn't enjoy sunbathing – not that he could blame her, he didn't enjoy it much himself. Her curly hair was tied up into a messy looking bun on the top of her head, he assumed so it was out of the way during her cleaning. She was wearing a pair of Marigold cleaning gloves, blue jeans and a grey, old, stained men's muggle t-shirt – her dad's perhaps?

He had told himself that he was going to speak less to her, but he was too curious to stop himself.

"France didn't work out then?" He drawled.

"Not quite no. The holiday got cut short on the advice of Dumbledore, I only got to spend a month abroad."

"You look rather pale for someone who's spent a month in sunny France."

"What can I say? I guess I don't tan easily." Hermione replied with a tight-lipped smile.

Severus noticed that talk of her summer was making her look uncomfortable. _How curious,_ he thought to himself.

"You don't want to talk about your holiday?"

"Sorry?"

"You seem irritable."

"Maybe I don't want to be reminded that I should be spending my day on the beach right now rather than scrubbing this bloody sink." She snapped at him.

"Why yes, it must be rather frustrating being an underage witch, you can't even use your magic to help you." Severus smirked at her, deciding that talking to the girl would be fine if he were simply winding her up.

Hermione stopped what she was doing to turn to glare at him.

"Don't you have anything better to do than mock me?"

"Yes, several things in fact. Unfortunately, I've been forced to babysit on the orders of the esteemed headmaster."

"We don't need babysitting, Sirius is here."

"Yes, well tell Dumbledore that. For some reason Mrs Weasley didn't trust him to look after five teenagers." Severus replied.

"So why aren't you checking on four of those five teenagers? Can't you leave me in peace?" She told him tersely.

"Merlin, you are testy today Granger. I should remind you to keep your impertinence in check, I am your professor after all."

"It may have escaped your attention _Sir_ , but we are not currently stood on school grounds."

"You might think your being smart, but I will find a reason to give you detention when we are back on school grounds if you don't watch your tongue." He said with a menacing sneer. "Besides, you told me yourself Sirius is looking after the others."

Severus finished off making his cup of tea and took a seat on the long dining table that was in the centre of the kitchen, picking up today's discarded edition of the Prophet. Better to waste his afternoon in the same room as Granger than Black.

* * *

Hermione felt on edge. When she had first been told that Snape was coming to aid Sirius in looking after Ron, his siblings, and herself she didn't think too much of it. In all actuality she had been curious to see him again after his behaviour the other night – him seeing her had clearly frustrated him, and she wanted to know where she stood with him.

She hadn't expected him to start asking questions about her appearance. She knew that the line of questioning could have been entirely innocent, but it was imperative that no one figured out that she had been using a time-turner. Dumbledore had told her it was need-to-know information, and with his leniency she didn't want to let him down. She was now feeling rather uncomfortable.

Hermione had caught him watching her in the reflection of the glass panels on the kitchen cupboards as she had been rinsing down the sink. Her time at Moody's had got her accustomed to looking in reflective surfaces and using her other senses to take in her surroundings, it was a skill she had to develop in order to reduce the success rate of his ambushes. She was starting to worry that he knew something had changed – hopefully whatever he was thinking, she could explain it away.

The silence in the room was also adding to her unease. The pair of them had not said a word to each other since he had sat down 15 minutes ago.

"How has your summer been so far, Professor?" Hermione asked as she started to dry down the surfaces with an old towel. She reasoned that if she spoke to him not only would it remove the awkward silence, but she might be able to better gauge what he was thinking of her.

"I do not want to engage in idle chit chat with you, Granger." He sneered at her.

"You can ask me about my summer, but I can't ask you about yours?" She said indignantly.

"Yes, that would be correct." He said with a sniff as he turned over to the next page in the Daily Prophet.

"Have I done something to offend you, Sir?"

"I just told you I don't wish to speak to you."

"So, I have."

He put the paper down in front of him and looked up at her.

"Are you incapable of listening to instructions, Granger?"

"I don't see why I should listen when they don't make any sense." She retorted.

"That's an evening of detention Granger, for your cheek."

"You can't do that." Hermione said, laughing mirthlessly.

"Watch me." He said with a supercilious smile. "A week's detention."

"There's no way you can enforce that." Hermione said through gritted teeth.

"By all means, you're welcome to try your luck. A fortnight's detention. One more comment and I'll make it a month."

Hermione glared at him, finding his attitude unbelievable. _Surely, he can't actually administer that?_ She asked herself. _Then again, he is a Slytherin, he might find a way._ She folded up the dirty towel that was in her hands and left the kitchen to storm towards her bedroom. At least in there she could get away from the infuriating potions master. Besides, there was a book that she wanted to finish reading waiting for her.

* * *

It was August 15th and Hermione was sat in the drawing room. There was a meeting going on downstairs and the Weasleys and Harry were trying to listen in, but after a few unsuccessful tries already Hermione just found that she couldn't be bothered this time.

She was getting a head start on her schoolwork for next year. She was currently reading her 5th year textbook for her potions class and taking down notes on the material. Once she had gotten over the creepy family tree that was painted on the wall, she had found that she quite liked the Black family drawing room. Perhaps that was simply because there was an interesting selection of books to choose from – if a little peculiar. It was mildly alarming how many of them appeared to be dark arts texts. There was still a good sample of books that weren't too gruesome, but she did occasionally reach for a book on dark hexes and jinxes - the knowledge may come in useful after all.

After having such a long break away from her studies, Hermione wanted to use this month as an opportunity to gradually get herself back into the swing of things. So far, the material in the book she was reading suggested it was only a minor jump up from the previous year. Hermione felt as if she had always been quite proficient at potions, and it was one of her preferred subjects despite the caustic man who taught it.

Hermione wondered if she would still be expected to have additional contact with him this year too, or if Dumbledore would end the tuition project he had given her – with the tournament last year it had hardly been a successful venture. Although, she did think Harry had walked away with a better grip on attack and defence. She thought she had gained more from the task than he had, however.

A sudden knock on the door caused Hermione to jump.

"Come in." She said as she put her book down in her lap, holding her page with her thumb. She was not expecting the tall figure of Snape to enter the room.

"I've been instructed to inform you that dinner will be in half an hour." He told her through clenched teeth, his arms folded across his broad, wiry chest.

"Against your will?" Hermione replied, commenting on his clear reluctance to be holding a conversation with her.

"What are you on about Granger?" He snapped.

"Well, going from your tone, you seem annoyed that you've been asked to talk to me." Hermione said. She picked up her bookmark to hold her place in her textbook, before placing the book on the coffee table next to her.

"Seeing as I've also been forced to stay for tonight's dinner, yes I could also do without talking to _you._ " He said nastily, looking her up and down. "So please, don't stop what you're reading to talk to me."

"Planning on killing the half hour by talking to Sirius instead?" It was well known that those two couldn't stand each other, it was impossible for them to be in the same room without the pair bickering amongst themselves. Snape glared at her in response. Hermione knew that he liked her more than he did most of the current inhabitants of Grimmauld Place, that was demonstrated by his choice to only 'watch' her a couple of weeks back. She also knew that this would also be the quietest room during the dinner preparations (aside from the bedrooms, of which he didn't have one), so he didn't really have many options.

"Can't you just piss off to your bedroom for half an hour, and leave me in peace?" He sneered at her, baring his ugly, crooked bottom row of teeth. Hermione was too satisfied that she had gotten underneath his skin to be scared off by his acerbic attitude.

"I'm quite comfortable here as it happens _Professor._ " Hermione replied, placing emphasis on his position to highlight his unprofessional choice of language.

"You really are insufferable girl." He told her as he took a seat on the armchair opposite the sofa she was sitting on. Hermione adjusted the way she was sitting so she could face him comfortably.

"Well I wouldn't want to break habit now, Sir." Hermione retorted, exaggerating a face of innocence as she fluttered her eyelashes. The summer of the previous year Hermione wouldn't have dreamt of talking to a teacher this way, least of all the man sat opposite her. However, ageing over 7 months more than she should have in that time and taking such a long hiatus from school had meant that she found it difficult behaving like the well-mannered school girl she used to be.

Snape smirked in response, but the smile was gone as quickly as it appeared.

"Do you ever take a break from your school work?" He asked her, nodding his head in the direction of her textbook.

"I wouldn't want to fall behind." She said simply, reaching forward to pick it back up and continue reading.

"The term hasn't even started yet." He said, furrowing his brow slightly. Hermione shrugged in response.

Severus couldn't help but stare at the girl who sat before him, deeply engrossed in her book. Something about her seemed different, but he couldn't quite place it. Perhaps it was nothing, perhaps he had simply been too focused on returning back into the Dark Lord's folds that he had forgotten what being around her was like. In a way she reminded him of a younger version of him, if only when it came to her devotion to her schoolwork. It was a dedication few students possessed. _Lily was like that too_ , came his inner thoughts, never quite allowing him a moment of peace from being reminded of _her._

* * *

It was September 1st and Hermione had _finally_ made it back to Hogwarts. It had been six months since she had last walked through the castle's doors and she had really missed it. Hopefully her life would gain back some structure and she would know what her schedule would be. If there was one thing that she relished it was order and routine.

She was laying in bed reflecting on her first day back, musing about how the ministry getting involved at Hogwarts would affect her time here this year. It was apparent that the ministry – or at least Cornelius Fudge – did not trust the headmaster, and neither did the press. It had frustrated Hermione several times that there was this sort of oligopoly with Great Britain's wizarding press that had meant that there were very few mediums of news that reached the masses, with the Prophet being by far the most popular choice. Really your choice was the Quibbler – a publication that released too many 'wacky' articles to be deemed a sensible option – or the Prophet, which released any old garbage the slimy likes of Rita Skeeter could think up. The result was the vast majority of wizarding Britain being subjected to brainwashing propaganda that the ministry pays for, and people turning their back on Dumbledore and Harry within moments of reading a few poorly written paragraphs.

Suddenly without warning a house elf appeared on her bed. Hermione let out a small scream in fright at the abrupt intrusion, bustling closer to the head of the bed. The house elf put one of its spindly fingers to its mouth to prompt Hermione to silence herself.

"Hermione are you okay?" Parvarti called out tentatively.

"Yes, I'm fine! Thank you! I erm… I thought I saw a spider, but it was a false alarm." Hermione said, hoping that her lie would suffice. She had the curtains drawn around her bed so Lavender and Parvarti would have been unable to see the elf currently sat cross-legged at the end of her bed.

The elf handed her a small red envelope, vanishing before Hermione got a chance to express her thanks. Shaking her surprise off, she quickly broke the wax seal to reach the letter inside. The parchment read:

Hermione,

Please come to my office tomorrow at 8:30pm.

A.D

The letter may only have been brief, but Hermione was thrilled. With any luck she would finally get some answers about her status within the Order, and what the next year would entail.

* * *

The following day Hermione found herself sat in front of Dumbledore, in his office, as scheduled.

"I trust you enjoyed your summer?" Dumbledore asked her, a seemingly genuine smile on his face.

"Some of it yes. I'll admit it was a little longer than I had planned." Hermione replied, her tone short but a polite smile was on her lips. She still felt annoyed that her summer had been extended without her permission.

"I apologise, I should have spoken to you first, but there simply was not the time. We don't all get to enjoy your luxury." He said, motioning his head towards the time-turner that he knew she wore around her neck.

"Believe me Sir, I'm grateful for the opportunity… I just worry sometimes about the long-term implications. It was dangerous for me to be in three places at once."

"Well, _technically_ it was but there was no way you were going to run into yourself. Alastor would have kept you safe inside his house, and the other version of you was enjoying your holiday in France. Really, there was no genuine danger in what you did." He told her. It had not gone unnoticed by Hermione that he was carefully removing himself from his words, that this was all _her_ luxury, _her_ decision.

Deciding that she wasn't getting anywhere, she pushed forward with the conversation, "Mad-Eye told me that I was a member of the Order? Forgive me for being frank Headmaster, but I haven't had a chance to ask you until now, and well it's been playing on my mind for the last two months."

"I understand dear. Not formally speaking, no. I wouldn't make you a member without first having a conversation about your intentions, although I will admit that I am hoping you say yes. Realistically speaking with your situation, it would be… unwise to make your membership known however. I feel now is not the correct time to make your circumstances common knowledge within the Order. You're a smart girl, I'm sure you are aware that it would be unwise for one to keep all their eggs in a single basket."

"If I were to join meetings then others would either protest because they think I'm too young, or because they would also want to join before they are of age." Hermione said, thinking aloud.

"Correct. We both know that you're more than old enough to join, however. In fact, if my calculations are correct you must only be a few months away from turning 18?"

"4 months, Sir." Hermione replied. Dumbledore nodded in turn.

"I propose that you would be best placed as you currently are: a close friend to Harry, working almost as a mentor to encourage him in his studies, but also in a position to offer him additional protection if it is necessary. Although, this year I think the mentoring should be more discreet. I think you would be more effective if he was unaware of your strategic position. Boys his age can have their ego so easily wounded, and I do not think it would be the wisest choice if our actions made him believe his ability was being called into question."

"Is that why you extended my training with Moody? For me to be a better… bodyguard?" Hermione said, wrinkling her nose in confusion.

"In a way, yes. Although calling you a bodyguard sounds a little odd, doesn't it? Just think of yourself as protecting your friend. Something I'm sure you were doing anyway, except now provisions can be put in place to help you do it properly."

"If I can't actually join in on any meetings Headmaster, am I not going to be a little excluded from the Order?"

"That is why if you agree I am going to organise smaller meetings with you, Moody, and one of his protégé. Her name is Nymphadora Tonks, you may have seen her around Grimmauld Place?"

"Yes, it's hard not to remember meeting a metamorphmagus, they're not exactly common. She seemed kind."

"She is going to be teaching you a little occlumency too. Hopefully well enough that you can protect your surface thoughts. Perhaps if you take to it you may be able to work on furthering the ability, so you have some protection if your mind were to be evaded, although that seems unlikely for now. You'll be surprised how many people know enough legilimency to read surface thoughts, and as you will be walking around keeping your time-travelling a secret, I believe it to be prudent for you to learn this skill. As you are still a student, now would be the most opportune time as it is unlikely any of the student body has learnt this skill yet. Although, I ask you to be careful with maintaining eye-contact for any length of time with anyone. Without training, it's hard to spot when your thoughts have been breached."

Hermione swallowed as she took in what the headmaster was telling her.

"What will Moody be doing?"

"He will be there to help Tonks relay information to you that gets discussed during Order meetings, so you are not left out of the loop."

"How often will I be meeting them? I assume you're expecting me to continue using the time-turner too?"

Dumbledore smiled at her. "You're getting very good at figuring this out Hermione. Yes, you will be using the time-turner. I expect you to meet them twice a week, for a couple of hours at a time."

"And no one can know?"

"Precisely. It may be beneficial for you to have an alibi each time, to avoid suspicion. Make your whereabouts known for a few hours, go to your dormitory, turn back in time and make your way out of the castle."

"Okay. I'll do it Headmaster." Hermione sighed in resignation. She was already in this deep, she may as well dive in further.

"Excellent news. I'll keep you updated with the finer details on when you will be meeting them." He beamed at her, before leaning forward to shake her hand. The pair both got up from their seats, and Dumbledore followed Hermione to the door of his office to bid her farewell.

As Hermione was making her way down the steps outside of the Headmaster's office she glanced at her watch. It was 9:15 – she still had 45 minutes before curfew. _Good. I can still get some time in the library tonight before bed,_ she thought to herself.

* * *

It was 9:55 and Severus found himself disillusioned not too far from the entrance of the Hogwarts' library. He had spotted Granger go inside a little over half an hour ago by chance and thought it would be likely that she would be staying until shortly before curfew – an ideal time for him to catch her out.

At 9:57 Granger was finally leaving the library, a heavy tome in her hand. _Perfect_ , Severus thought to himself. He quickly moved around the corner, removed his disillusionment charm, and started walking in her direction. This way it would look like he had organically run into her. Rather fortunately, no one else seemed to be nearby.

"Miss Granger." He spoke loudly to catch her attention. She stopped walking in her tracks and turned towards him, moving a curly strand of hair out of her face to sit behind her ear.

"Professor Snape." Granger said in reply, her brow furrowing for a brief moment – she clearly had not expected to see him.

"You look surprised Miss Granger?"

"Pardon me Sir, but you don't ordinarily stop me in the corridor?"

"I suppose so. Excuse me, I merely wished to congratulate you on your prefect status. I had been unaware when I saw you last." He said, smiling down at her. Snape had figured that the perfect way to stall a Gryffindor would be to appeal to their arrogance, and what better way than with empty praise?

"Oh… well thank you Sir, that's kind of you." Hermione replied, returning his smile.

"No need to thank me. It came as no surprise to the school faculty, I can think of few students that are as hard-working as you." Snape said. Her brow knitted together in confusion again. _Shit, you're overdoing it_ , came Severus' thoughts. "And although you may also be one of the most annoying, I suppose a female fifth-year Gryffindor _had_ to be picked."

Hermione rolled her eyes in irritation – at least she wasn't second-guessing him now.

"Is that all, Sir?" She asked, sounding exasperated.

"Oh, I'm sorry Miss Granger, surely you're not trying to dismiss me?" Snape asked mockingly, knowing full well she wouldn't dare.

"No of course not Sir, I apologise if it sounded that way." Hermione replied through gritted teeth. Snape smirked at her irritation.

"That's a large book that you have in your hands Granger, may I see?" Snape asked politely, holding his hand out expectantly to take the book from her. Hermione reluctantly handed it to him.

" _Vanishing Spells and 78 Curious Ways to Use Them_ " Snape said, reading the title of the book aloud. "I see you're getting in some preparation for your transfiguration classes. Professor McGonagall did tell me that you've shown a _fervent_ desire to learn more about charms and transfiguration."

"Yes, she gave me some private tuition last term, as I'm sure you recall. Although I'm sure I'm not the first student to express enthusiasm in the subject."

"Of course, you have always been a particularly… keen student though." Snape said with a tight-lipped smile, handing the book back to her. "It must be getting rather late now." Snape said, checking his watch. "Ah yes, I make it out to be 10:01. Do you have rounds tonight Miss Granger?"

"No, not tonight Sir. My rounds are on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays. Today is a Monday."

"Do you mean to tell me that you're out of bed after curfew Miss Granger? _And_ as a prefect? Tut tut, not a good way to start the school year is it?" Snape said with a predatory grin.

Realisation crashed down on Hermione as she suddenly remembered the conversation the pair of them had in Grimmauld Place's kitchen. She clenched her eyes shut in frustration and took a deep breath before opening them again.

"I don't suppose you're giving me a fortnight's detention Sir?"

"Well I wouldn't want anyone thinking I was giving the prefect body preferential treatment, would I?"

Hermione laughed joylessly. "Certainly not, Sir. What time should I come to your classroom?"

"8pm Granger. I'd run along to your dorm now if I were you. Good night." He replied, before walking away. Hermione turned to watch him stalk off around the corner, his robes billowing behind him.

 _Well at least that explains why he was so eager to stop and talk to me. Bastard._ Hermione thought to herself as she stormed off in the direction of the Gryffindor common room.


	8. Chapter 8

It was the morning of September 3rd and Hermione was getting herself ready for the day ahead, gathering her hair together to make a French plait – it was always the best way to rescue a bad hair day. The older Hermione had got the better she was able to manage her unruly curls. It had been a bit of a learning curve for Hermione as she had been unable to receive any motherly advice on taming them due to the curls being inherited from her Dad's side of the family. She had found that copious amounts of conditioner and hair oil usually did the trick, but each time she went to bed the messier her hair would get the following day, until she next washed it. As she braided her hair, she reflected on the meeting that she had with Dumbledore the previous day.

There was something about her last meeting with him that had set her on edge a bit. Hermione had a long time over the summer to reflect on her project the previous year, and she couldn't help but feel like what had once seemed like a collaboration now felt as if it was something else. It was difficult for Hermione to articulate exactly what it felt like, but perhaps it was just a gut reaction to the Headmaster's reluctance to take any accountability over her situation.

It was tricky, on one hand she was very grateful that she had been given the opportunity to not only benefit from one-to-one tuition and guidance from talented witches and wizards, but on the other she was taking a risk every single time she used her time-turner. She was acutely aware that if her time-turning usage continued for many more years she would be significantly older than she should be, and there's only so much you can explain away by simply saying you're maturing early. If anyone got suspicious all they would have to do was perform a basic diagnostic spell and it would inform them of her true age.

Each time Hermione raised a concern though it was immediately dismissed by Dumbledore and she was made to feel ungrateful for her privilege. It was difficult to protest too extensively however as Hermione did truly want the opportunities that were being presented to her, but without the repercussions of continuous time-travel. _I suppose I can't have my cake and eat it too,_ she mused.

She was hoping that the further details Dumbledore would release to her about her meetings with Tonks and Moody would give her a little more insight into how exactly she was meant to pull this off. If she was going to be leaving school grounds then she could always use the passageway beneath the one-eyed witch statue, that had always worked well enough for Harry. Once she was in the cellar of Honeydukes she should then be able to apparate to wherever she was meant to go. Goodness knows what excuse she was meant to come up with for a solid alibi though. If she _had_ to have a known whereabouts for these meetings, then she would have no choice but to use her time-turner on those days, as pretending she was in the library or getting an early night would be too thin an excuse.

Thinking about her evenings reminded Hermione of the detentions that she had managed to land last night. Snape had been so difficult towards her over the summer, and it seemed a little convenient that he had just 'accidentally' ran into her last night outside of the library. Of course, _he_ would feel the need to be so vindictive. At the time, she had wondered if the conversation they shared in the hospital wing was the start of a respectful student-teacher friendship of sorts. She knew Remus and Harry had built a friendship during his year as their professor, and she had wondered if she was in the midst of building something similar with Snape. _Evidently not,_ she thought to herself, _clearly that night in the hospital ring rattled him._ Hermione finished tying her braid and collected her things before heading down to the common room, where she would meet the boys so they could collectively walk to breakfast.

* * *

"I don't trust her." Ron said, as he glared daggers at Umbridge who was sat at the high table with the other teaching staff. They were sat in the Great Hall eating lunch.

"Nor should you! I told you the other day that the ministry getting involved at Hogwarts only meant bad things." Hermione responded, eyebrows knitted together in concern. "I mean, look at the curriculum she's following – how on _earth_ is that going to prepare us for anything beyond these walls? Have you looked at the book she's teaching from yet?"

"Sure… I've seen a few chapter headings." Ron replied, fervently nodding.

"Is that it?" Hermione asked, sounding rather unimpressed.

"Are you going to judge me or are you going to at least explain your point first?" Ron answered defensively.

"Really Ronald, we've already been back three days, it wouldn't kill you to do a bit of preparation. This is an important year! We've got our-"

"-Our O.W.L.s yes I _know_ that Hermione." Ron interrupted indignantly.

"Then why aren't you doing anything about it?" Hermione retorted, throwing her hands up.

"Maybe I've just started with other textbooks first! You don't know how much I've been studying!" Ron said, starting to raise his voice. Those that were sat nearby started to look over in the squabbling pair's direction.

"You? Study!? That would be a first!" She scoffed.

"Can you two please _stop_ bickering! For five minutes! You're giving me a headache." Harry snapped at them.

Ron and Hermione looked sheepishly at Harry before both muttering an apology under their breath.

"I was just going to say that the book doesn't actually teach you any defence, it just focuses on how to reason your way out of a battle. As if that's a realistic approach! Imagine being in front of a Death Eater and all you've got up your sleeve are polite requests for them not to harm you!" Hermione said, getting increasingly shriller with each sentence.

"Surely the whole book isn't like that?" Ron asked, disbelievingly.

"I mean, I've not read the entire thing back-to-back yet, but I believe I'm correct in saying there isn't _one_ mention of a defensive spell." Hermione said, biting her lip. Ron scrubbed his face with his hands in frustration.

"I can't believe Dumbledore is allowing this to happen." Ron said, shaking his head.

"I really don't think there's much he can do… he can't exactly stop the ministry from interfering. My worry is that this is just the tip of the iceberg." Hermione said sadly.

"What do you think Harry?" Ron asked. He had noticed that his friend was being uncharacteristically silent.

"Hmm? Sorry, yes, I agree with what you're both saying." He replied, as he swirled his pumpkin juice around in his glass, not meeting his friends' eyes.

"How was your detention Harry? With Professor Umbridge?" Hermione asked softly. He just shrugged his shoulders in response, choosing not to speak.

Hermione recognised that perhaps a change of conversation off Umbridge would help to lighten Harry's mood. "Actually, on the subject of detentions I guess now would be a good time to let you two know I've got a fortnight's worth of detention with Professor Snape." Harry quickly stopped what he was doing to look at her.

" _What?"_ Both boys said in unison, finding it unbelievable that she would manage to land herself such a large detention so early in the year.

"Well, I talked back to him when we were in Grimmauld Place over the summer, and he didn't exactly like it. So he threatened to give me a detention," Hermione said leaning closer to her friends, now using a hushed voice so those near them would be unlikely to overhear. "I naturally told him he couldn't punish me outside of school grounds, so he decided to stop me last night as I was leaving the library _before_ curfew. He stalled me for long enough, so I was out of bed _after_ curfew, just so he actually had an excuse to punish me."

"That slimy git!" Ron exclaimed.

"That's so typical of him isn't it! Stalking around the castle waiting for any opportunity to exploit his power. Do you think he followed you?" Harry said, irritated on her behalf.

"Well it's just a bit _too_ convenient isn't it?" Hermione replied. Both boys nodded eagerly in agreement.

"I told you that you were nuts for liking him!" Ron told her a little loudly, waggling his finger at her.

"Ron keep your voice down! And you make it sound like I was sweet on him or something, I just said that I didn't think he was _that_ bad." Hermione said defensively.

"Well, we were starting to wonder." Harry said raising his eyebrows as he looked between Ron and Hermione. "You kept going on about how much you enjoyed his private tuition!" Hermione was too stunned to immediately respond.

"So, you don't fancy him?" Ron asked, looking for clarification after taking in her shocked expression.

"Obviously I don't! He's our professor, and he's well _him!_ You two are unbelievable! I also like being taught by Hagrid, do you think I fancy him too?!" Hermione whispered angrily. Harry looked embarrassed at this, realising the assumption was perhaps a little premature. Ron however was beaming at Harry.

"Why are you so happy?" Hermione demanded.

"Well, Harry owes me a galleon! Told you she would never fancy that old bat." Ron said smugly.

Hermione laughed, but it was not a joyous sound. "Are you kidding me?! You two actually _bet_ on this?"

"Well done mate!" Harry said, telling Ron off. Ron simply shrugged before leaning forward to grab a fourth sausage roll, not seeing what the big deal was.

"You two are _unbelievable._ " Hermione told them as she got up from her seat and pulled her bag onto her shoulder.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked through a mouthful of food.

"Away from you two!" Hermione answered shrilly. "Unfortunately, I'll see the pair of you in charms."

* * *

It was 8:30pm and Hermione, as agreed, was in the potions classroom to complete the first of her detentions. She was currently in the middle of brewing a batch of Pepper-Up Potion. It looked as if the detentions that Snape had in store for her were to be exactly like last year's. It was a monotonous potion to brew, but at least it was mindless and easy.

Hermione was still reeling a little from her conversation with Ron and Harry at lunch time. She had just wanted to vent to them about her frustrations over the man who was currently sat mere metres away from her – but no, they had to make it _weird._ Why wasn't she allowed to say that she enjoyed being taught by an intelligent man? Sure, Snape had his faults, but he was smart and she had liked being tutored by him. _I'm not some daft schoolgirl that harbours a crush for any male teacher under 40 that crosses my path,_ she thought to herself bitterly. Clearly, she would need to monitor what she told the pair of them from now on, evidently their maturity needed a little breathing space to develop.

Unbeknownst to Hermione, each irritated thought she had about Ron and Harry only made her chop her ingredients more fiercely with each movement of her wrist.

"5 points from Gryffindor for damaging school property, Miss Granger." Snape drawled. His voice jolted Hermione from her thoughts and made her pause what she was doing.

"Pardon me, Sir?"

"You're cutting that mandrake root so roughly that you've no doubt damaged that chopping board." He told her, sounding as if he were bored.

"It's a chopping board? This is what it's for, it's fine!" Hermione replied, incensed.

"Nonetheless, please save your anger for outside this detention." He told her. Hermione's eyes flashed angrily.

"Whatever you want, Professor." She answered with a tight-lipped smile.

Snape stood up and walked towards her, stopping in front of her desk to look at her potion's ingredients.

"You should chop mandrake root more finely. This is fine for Pepper-Up Potion, but for other more complex potions it could hinder the potency. It's good practise to cut slithers of the root, rather than slices." He held out his hand and nodded towards her own, where she was holding her knife. Hermione passed the knife to him and he demonstrated to her what he meant with the remainder of the mandrake root that she had left.

"Thank you, Sir. I'll make sure to remember that." Hermione said softly, calming down now that he had voluntarily helped her.

"It's no problem Granger. You may be upset that you've received this punishment, but it would do no good to fall empty of my promises. I gave you plenty of warning that day at Grimmauld Place." He said pointedly. Hermione looked blankly at him for a moment, before realising that he thought she was upset at him.

"Oh, that's not why I was angry Professor – I mean, don't get me wrong I'm hardly _thrilled_ to be here, but that's not what's bothering me." Snape raised his brow in response.

"I'm wounded Miss Granger." He said sardonically. "Is it anything important?"

"No Sir, just something… well, silly I suppose. I didn't like something Ron and Harry said to me earlier in the day. I'll control my temper."

"See to it that you do Granger." He said with a pointed look. "I won't put up with your temper tantrums each time you realise your poor choice in friends." He added with a sniff before walking back over to his desk.

"It wasn't a temper tantrum." Hermione said sulkily under her breath, not quiet enough for Snape to not hear her.

"Miss Granger." Snape said, his voice a warning. Hermione knew not to say anything else.

Hermione reduced the temperature of her potion so it could start simmering and made a note of the time. It would need to be at this temperate for a further 15 minutes before being stirred six times anti-clockwise. As she waited, she discreetly glanced at her professor, her mind yet again wandering back to her conversation at lunch.

The only students Hermione had ever known to harbour a crush on the dour man were Slytherins, and maybe a handful of Ravenclaws – he was simply disliked too much by the rest of the student body to ever be entertained in that way. Especially as the man wasn't traditionally handsome either, but if it wasn't for his acerbic personality, she could understand why someone would be interested. He was tall – most likely around 6'2", his shoulders were broad and his body lean. He didn't appear to be muscular (although it was tricky to tell through the volume of his robes), but Hermione was never really attracted to that anyway. His hair could lean a little lank at times, but more often than not it looked clean. His hooked nose was certainly rather large, but Hermione thought it complimented his features. The rest of his face looked well proportioned, if perhaps his ears almost too large when he tucked his hair behind them. His smile was nice too, on the _very_ rare occasion he chose to show it. His top row of teeth was fairly straight, but the bottom row was crooked. Being the daughter of two dentists had meant that Hermione always paid particular attention to peoples' teeth. _He's not actually that uneasy on the eyes… do I find him attractive?_ Hermione asked herself. _It is a shame he's such an arse. Or maybe it's a good thing he's so unlikeable, considering the last time I fancied_ _a teacher it was Gilderoy bloody Lockhart – that's a rabbit hole I'm_ _never_ _going down again._

Hermione checked her watch again, just a couple more minutes to go. After stirring the potion it would be ready to be bottled, and Hermione would be finished here. Then she would be able to start her first rounds of the year. Unfortunately, it would still be a while before she would see her own bed.

* * *

After finishing her rounds on Friday 6th September Hermione made her way into her dormitory. Her patrols were only an hour long and it had been a relatively uneventful night. She found that she had to deduct points from only a couple of Hufflepuff third years for kissing in an alcove, but fortunately they didn't protest too much. She felt a little uncomfortable about having the authority to deduct points, simply because it was new to her and it just felt like she was pretending to be an authoritative figure that she wasn't. Hermione figured that with time though she would ease into her new role.

It was roughly 11pm and Hermione was feeling tired and very much looking forward to climbing into her bed. As she drew back the red velvet curtains on her four poster bed she noticed there was a small envelope laying on her pillow. _Must be from Dumbledore,_ she thought. She sat down on her bed, closing her curtains around her and tore open the wax seal to read the contents of the letter. The parchment read:

Dear Hermione,

Please come to my office after you have completed your patrols tonight.

A.D.

Hermione placed the letter in her lap and furrowed her brow. _Tonight? It's a bit late isn't it?_ She thought to herself. She cast a charm to inform her of the time and saw that it was now 11:06pm. _Better go now before it gets much later._ She got out of her bed and looked around her room. Both Parvati and Lavender were sat on Lavender's bed with the curtains drawn, giggling to themselves about who they thought was the hottest member of the wizarding boyband Thestralica. _Perfect, they won't see me._ Hermione closed the curtains on her bed again and charmed them so they could not be opened by anyone other than her. She then disillusioned herself and began her journey to the Headmaster's office.

* * *

"What did you want to speak to me about, Sir?" Hermione asked, leaning forwards in her chair in anticipation to hear more news on her situation.

"You'll be pleased to hear that I've managed to confirm with Alastor some timings for your meetings. I kept your prefect commitments in mind, and I've been able to negotiate that you meet with him and Tonks on Mondays and Thursdays. I'm aware you have been scheduled to patrol on Thursdays, but I've changed your timetable so you will carry out your rounds on Wednesdays instead. It had been a little limiting as to what I was able to arrange, seeing as the man has already forsaken some of his summer for your benefit." Dumbledore said as he paced slowly in front of his desk. He glanced at her after he had finished, giving her a sharp look.

 _It's not like I personally asked him to help,_ Hermione thought to herself petulantly. She knew that Dumbledore did not want her taking for granted the 'help' he was arranging for her.

"You will meet with him at Hogsmeade station every Monday and Thursday night at approximately 8pm for the winter term. After Christmas, this will drop down to only one day a week – which day is yet to be confirmed." The elderly man continued. "May I ask if you've considered what your alibi will be?" He asked her, his footsteps coming to a halt as he turned his body to face her.

"Um, I was wondering if something as simple as spending my time in the Gryffindor common room would suffice? Plenty of people are around during the evenings so my whereabouts would be accounted for." Hermione replied, sounding unsure of herself.

"That could work. A problem may arise however if your friends are busy one evening." Dumbledore countered, taking a seat in his desk chair.

"Well… if that were to happen then I could always just read a book by myself in there. Many people would still see me." She reasoned.

"Is that normal behaviour for you?"

"I suppose I would ordinarily read a book in my room or in the library, but I don't think it's that shocking if I were to move to the common room." Hermione replied as she started to bite her lip.

"Hmm, I was hoping for a more concrete plan, but perhaps this will be sufficient." He said with a sigh.

"It wouldn't be the case for a little while anyway, I still have just over one more week's worth of detentions with Professor Snape."

Dumbledore appeared surprised at this. "You have detention? I was unaware, is it not unlike you to get into trouble?"

Hermione swallowed thickly and gazed at the floor sheepishly. "Well, he caught me out a couple of minutes after curfew, but that was only because he stopped me for a conversation. He didn't appreciate me talking back to him on one occasion in Grimmauld Place, and so I think he was being especially strict to punish me for my behaviour to account for then." Dumbledore chuckled at this.

"That does sound like your Potions professor." He said with a warm smile.

"I didn't think it was very fair personally…" Hermione trailed off.

"I would be surprised if you believed otherwise. He's always been one to take any perceived disrespect to heart. At least it's only one more week, is he making you scrub cauldrons? I've heard that's a favoured punishment of his."

"No, actually. He's having me make medicinal potions for Madam Pomfrey, so it could be worse. I would say he was being kind, but I imagine it's because he'd rather rid himself of the necessity of brewing such basic potions himself."

"Yes, I imagine you're right." Dumbledore tilted his head to the side for a moment then, as if in deep thought.

"Is everything okay, Headmaster?" Hermione asked curiously.

"How do you find brewing these potions?" He answered. Hermione blinked a couple of times in confusion.

"Fine, I suppose? I can't complain. I'd even go as far to say it's therapeutic at times, why do you ask?"

"Perhaps your alibi could instead be brewing these potions for Madam Pomfrey, under the supervision of Professor Snape. It would account for your whereabouts, and most importantly it would be reliable. If you had somewhere to be at a prearranged time, I think you'd find it easier to make excuses to your friends as to why you can't be around. Think about it, if your plan was to spend your evenings with Harry and Ron then they would expect you to stay with them once you finish your evening meal. It could be challenging to explain why you need to disappear for a moment, only for you to reappear in a matter of minutes. With this plan you can head straight to your meeting with Alastor after dinner, turn back in time once you finish, and then go and meet Professor Snape."

"Why didn't I think of that? That makes sense!" Hermione exclaimed, her face lighting up at the idea. "My friends would completely understand why I would want to willingly do something like that. They knew that I was doing 'extra-curricular learning' with Professors Snape and McGonagall last year, so this would just look like an extension of that - even if only Ron and Harry knew the true nature of those lessons." Dumbledore smiled in response.

"I'm much happier with this plan. I suggest you speak to Professor Snape and inform him of how much you enjoy brewing these potions and see if you can get him to arrange supervision for you on Mondays and Thursdays. I'll put in a good word with him, and hopefully we can get this scheduled to commence the week after next."

Hermione paused at this. "Will Professor Snape not be made aware that I would be doing this simply to account for my whereabouts?"

"No. As I previously told you Miss Granger, your induction into the Order and your time-turning usage should be kept on a need-to-know basis. I don't believe your meetings with Alastor and Tonks are of any consequence to your Potions professor."

"Do you not trust him? He helped me last year?" Hermione asked, feeling confused.

"Of course, but we are at war and it is always important to look at the bigger picture. Your professor is a spy. Whilst I trust him wholeheartedly - if he was to _ever_ be figured out by Voldemort, or his mind infiltrated, then this would be information that would be given to the other side. It is an unnecessary risk. Your position may not seem that strategically important to you, but if people knew your true age then they may try to use it against you."

"How could it be used against me?"

"Well, you could be publicly shamed if it ever reached the press. You are known for performing well in your classes, if people find out that you are too old for your year group then many will reason that your intelligence is simply down to the advantage of your age against your peers. Some may petition for you to be removed from your year group, or perhaps Hogwarts all together if you ever exceed 18 - either of which would put distance between you and Harry. The wizarding community in Britain is small Hermione, it would only take an article or two in the Daily Prophet to defame your name with such accusations."

Hermione nodded in understanding. "I saw the effect the Prophet had last year when it claimed I was trying to date both Viktor Krum and Harry at the same time; women and girls everywhere hated me." Hermione rolled her eyes, thinking back on the ordeal. "Unfortunately, I can see the plausibility in the events you're describing. I'll do my best to keep it secret."

"Thank you. It's not just about protecting Harry, I wouldn't want you to be negatively affected by the strategies we have made together." Dumbledore said, leaning forward and lightly placing his hand on her forearm in a fatherly-like manner. "There is great benefit in what you're doing, and it's only of a small personal sacrifice to yourself. I can only thank you for your continued dedication to helping the war aid." Hermione smiled at him and Dumbledore let go of her arm.

"Do you know how to leave the castle undetected?" He asked.

"Yes, there's a passageway that I'm familiar with that should take me to Hogsmeade undetected."

"That's good. Do you have any other questions?"

"None that I can think of, Headmaster."

"Very good." Dumbledore turned to look at the golden ornate clock that was hanging in his office. "It's twenty-to-twelve, you ought to be getting back to your dorm. I apologise for keeping you awake."

"Okay, thank you for seeing me." Hermione said, standing up. "What if Professor Snape doesn't agree to Mondays and Thursdays?" She asked as an afterthought.

"As I said, I'll try to put in a good word. I'm sure it'll be no issue." He smiled kindly at her.

"Okay then." Hermione said, returning his smile. She headed towards the door to leave. "Goodnight Headmaster."

"May you sleep well, Miss Granger." He replied, bidding her farewell.

Hermione closed the door and walked down the narrow staircase. She waited at the bottom for the gargoyle to turn around to allow her to exit. As soon as the exit opened a large, dark figure bumped into her. The mysterious man struggled to find his feet, and the pair stumbled backwards only stopping as Hermione's back hit the stone wall behind them. To brace himself, the man laid a hand on the stone wall next to Hermione's head. His body loomed over her.

"Lumos." A familiar, deep voice said as the strange man thrusted his wand a mere inch away from her chin. "Granger?" He asked, surprise clear in his voice. Hermione instantly recognised the man to in fact be Professor Snape.

"Do you mind lowering your wand Sir?" Hermione asked, irritation creeping into her voice. Not only had he just walked directly into her without so much of an apology, he was now rather rudely holding his wand to her face.

Snape lowered his wand, so it was level with her chest, but didn't move away from her – although the confined space meant that he couldn't have put much space between them if he had tried. "Why on earth are you here?" He barked.

"The Headmaster wished to speak to me." Hermione said bluntly.

"It's nearly midnight."

"Yes, well, the meeting is over now."

"It couldn't have waited until the morning?"

"It appears not, Sir." Hermione said frustratedly.

"What was so important?"

"You'll have to ask the Headmaster. May I go now please?" Hermione asked, gesturing her head in the direction of the gargoyle door. Snape stepped sideways so he was parallel with the stairs; his face was completely devoid of expression.

"Disillusion yourself Granger. You wouldn't want another professor catching you outside of curfew." He told her brusquely. Hermione nodded and stepped towards the gargoyle and waited for it to turn around. As she waited for the door to open, she glanced back to look at Snape, being careful not to make eye-contact with him following Dumbledore's warning to her last week. His face remained blank, watching her back. Hermione waved her wand over her body, silently disillusioning herself and left the hallway leading to Dumbledore's office.

* * *

Severus Snape made his way up the stairs leading to Dumbledore's office, still reeling from the surprise of quite literally bumping into Granger just moments ago. He had been wondering if there was a continued plan for her this year, but Albus had not mentioned anything and as far as he knew no faculty members had been approached to provide extra-curricular support for the girl. Running into her here, at this time however, suggested that there was indeed something afoot.

He was coming to see Dumbledore as he had just returned from his weekly Death Eater meeting with the Dark Lord's inner circle and needed to give an update. As the meeting was uneventful it wouldn't have taken long to relay the information, but now he would need to ask why in Merlin's name Granger was meeting with him outside of curfew.

He pushed open the wooden door leading into the office and cleared his throat to announce his presence.

"Ah, Severus! I wasn't sure if I would be seeing you tonight or in the morning." Dumbledore smiled at him, but it was only brief as his expression quickly turned serious. "What news do you bring?"

"Nothing of much consequence. There was a discussion on recruiting more numbers to replenish the force of the Death Eaters; as you already know the current numbers are rather low compared to when the Dark Lord was last at his strongest. He's trying to lay relatively low until he has the strength to carry out anything more… daring. It appears to me that he is going for a long-term strategy. Hopefully this slower movement will allow you time to match his efforts, and thwart him before anything more serious occurs." Severus answered.

Dumbledore nodded slowly as he took in the information. "I suppose that is as close to good news as I could have hoped for at this stage. It's difficult at this moment to gain support on our side when many still refuse to accept his return." He said, sighing deeply. "Thank you for coming to me Severus, I shall sleep a little easier tonight knowing nothing grave is about to imminently happen. Is that all?"

"Not quite Albus. I must ask, why was Granger visiting you so late? Or at all even?" Snape asked, bringing his arms up to fold against his broad chest.

"You saw her then?"

"Yes." Snape said bluntly.

Dumbledore sighed again. "She had sent word to me that she needed to speak as a matter of urgency, so I arranged a late meeting as I simply had no free time earlier on in the day. It transpired that she felt rather strongly about her being admitted into the Order and felt as if she would be a valuable asset. I think that after the additional tutorship that I had arranged for her last year, she was under the impression that perhaps I would treat her differently to her peers. I had to explain to her that it is simply not appropriate for a child to be a member, and that she would have to wait an additional year."

"Only the _one_ year?" Snape queried.

"Yes, the girl turns 16 on the 19th this very month. A rather early birthday for her year group, I believe she's the oldest. I told her that a year would soon pass, and only then would I allow her to join forces with us. Still, her drive to fight for what's right is admirable." Dumbledore said almost wistfully.

Severus tried to fight the feeling of irritation that was swelling inside of him. His gut was telling him that there was more to this story, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being lied to. It would hardly be the first time he witnessed Albus playing puppeteer and manipulating those around him. He gritted his teeth and looked off to the side as he tried to think of what he should say next – he would need to be strategic.

"I'll admit I ended up keeping her here longer than I ought to have considering the late hour." Dumbledore said, pausing for a moment. "She told me about the detentions that she's been having with you." He added. This caught Severus' attention and he turned to look directly at the Headmaster.

"Yes, I caught her outside of curfew." He replied, keeping his face carefully blank.

"Don't worry, she explained the story to me. I'm not going to chastise you for improperly enforcing punishment-"

"-I didn't improperly enforce anything; she was most definitely breaking the school rules. I don't know what she told you-" Severus snapped, interrupting Dumbledore.

" **Severus**." Dumbledore raised his voice, warning Severus to silence himself. "I appreciate you caught her on a technicality, but please don't talk to me like I'm a fool." His tone was short.

Severus flared his nostrils in irritation. "Of course, Albus." He said through gritted teeth.

"As I was saying, she was telling me about your detentions. As she appears to enjoy brewing potions, I suggested to her that she should ask you if she can brew the potions for Poppy on a more permanent basis."

"Why would you ask her to do that?"

"I believe that she may feel less excluded if she thinks she's still lending a hand. I think by you agreeing to do this for her it would help placate her. Perhaps tell her that by her taking on the responsibility of reducing your workload it allows you to focus more on your own duties for the Order."

"I've never once gotten the impression from her that she enjoys her detentions with me, which is perfect considering they are _meant_ to be a punishment. What sort of message does it send if I both punish and reward the girl with the exact same task?"

"Maybe that was your own mistake in handing out a detention of that nature. Just because you find brewing those particular potions tedious, doesn't mean a student fairly new to the craft of potion-making wouldn't appreciate the opportunity to work on their skillset."

Severus furrowed his brow – this situation was still not sitting right with him. "Why do I get the impression that you're lying to me?"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows feigning surprise. _The audacity of that man,_ Snape thought to himself.

"Lying? My boy, I fear your role is making you more cynical by the day. Why would I wish to lie to you? You know your dedication to the cause is invaluable to me, I wouldn't disrespect that by being deceitful towards you." He said shaking his head.

Severus knew there was more here than he was being told. _He may have decided that he won't tell me, but that doesn't mean I won't convince Granger to let me in on their secret,_ Snape thought. _I'm not about to be pawned off by him, not after what I put myself through each week. If he wants this to turn into a little game, then so be it._

"Of course, I shouldn't have questioned you. I'll wait for Granger to come forward to me." Snape said will a small, polite smile. He bowed his head and turned back towards the door. "Goodnight Albus."

"Goodnight." Dumbledore replied, bowing his head to say goodbye.


	9. Chapter 9

The following Monday evening Hermione was sat on the blue metal bench at Hogsmeade Station, chewing her lip as she anxiously waited to be collected. She had told her friends at dinner that she would be heading off before them so she could make sure she was on time for her detention with Snape. Fortunately, Snape had a reputation for being especially strict, so they didn't question why she would leave the table at 7:40pm to make an 8:00pm detention.

So far, the plan had worked smoothly, although it had transpired that her school uniform wasn't the most practical outfit to get through the narrow passageway. She had needed to repair numerous ladders that had been made in her tights, as they had got caught several times on the jagged, stony edges of the walls. A change in clothes would have just over complicated her tight schedule however, and she needed to be dressed in her school uniform for her detentions with Snape.

It was then that Hermione noticed Tonks' distinctive bright pink hair in the distance.

"Wotcher!" The young witch exclaimed as she approached Hermione.

"Hello Tonks!" Hermione smiled as she stood up to greet her. "I don't know why, but I had assumed it would be Mad-Eye that would come and collect me."

"Yes well, I thought I'd volunteer to do the honours. Mad-Eye has had a bit of a manic day, so between you and me so he wasn't in his most… friendliest of moods. I thought this whole thing would be a bit less daunting for you if I was the one to collect you."

"Oh, thank you. I'm not being a nuisance, am I? I wouldn't want to impose if Mad-Eye doesn't want to see me." Hermione said nervously.

"No not at all! You'll just be seeing more of me today than him, but I think that'll be good! With the nature of occlumency I'll be getting to know you quite well over the next few months, so I thought it'd be nice if we got a chance to speak before we begin. Probably best we go somewhere more discreet, though." Said Tonks as she looked around to see if anyone was nearby – fortunately the coast was clear. She held out her arm to Hermione for her to accept it. Hermione felt the familiar, sickly pull in the pit of her stomach from side-along apparition, but the sensation did not linger. They had arrived at Mad-Eye's home.

"Oh, I've been here before!" Hermione cried, recognising the scruffy looking house.

"Yes, Moody mentioned that you two had spent some of the summer together." Tonks then leant closer to Hermione and whispered, "Can't say I envy you there, don't get me wrong I admire the bloke but he's a bit… intense to say the least." Hermione didn't know what to say, not wishing to talk unfavourably about someone who was helping her, so she didn't say a thing. The two girls began walking towards the front door.

Seconds after walking into the house Hermione started to feel uncomfortable. She discreetly got her wand in a position so she could access it quickly – she hadn't forgotten about Mad-Eye's antics that quickly. She scanned her surroundings to clock the reflective surfaces visible to her and used them to detect a small amount of movement from the bottom left-hand corner of the living room.

"Is everything okay-" Tonks started to ask as they walked into the room, but she didn't quite manage to finish her sentence before Hermione suddenly turned around and swiftly deflected a curse that was sent her way.

"Very good Granger." Came a gruff voice from the direction the spell had been cast. Mad-Eye walked out of the shadows and came forward to greet her.

"We've only just walked through the door; you could at least make her feel welcome first!" Tonks protested, irked at his behaviour.

"But Tonks, don't forget about _constant vigilance_." Hermione smirked, her comment poking fun at Mad-Eye's famed mantra. The metamorphmagus giggled in response before linking her arm through Hermione's and walking her over to the sofa in the room. Moody appeared to be suppressing a smile.

"So, Mad-Eye and I have spoken about how best to navigate our time together. Order meetings are typically once a week and shouldn't take long to summarise to you. I was therefore thinking that we start on Mondays with half an hour or so dedicated to you catching up on recent events, and then we can spend the next half hour going over your occlumency technique. You know, talk about what you understand, what you don't, where you think you may be going wrong. We can then spend a couple hours on Wednesdays putting the theory into practise."

"That sounds good to me." Hermione nodded.

"Wonderful! Our time is a little limited, so shall we just jump straight in?" Tonks asked turning to Moody. He simply nodded in return, giving her permission to begin the meeting.

The trio sat together discussing the details of the Order meetings over the last couple of weeks. They explained that it was difficult at the moment to recruit people to their side as many still refused to acknowledge the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Tonks complained about how some Order members bickered amongst themselves during meetings and told Hermione that she wished someone could just relay the information to her so she wouldn't need to attend – a comment that Mad-Eye then scolded her for.

Both Tonks and Moody hinted at their disapproval of the sustained use of her time-turner but hearing that it was what 'Dumbledore wanted' was enough for them to silence their thoughts. Hermione didn't find their pensive expressions particularly comforting though – she didn't need them to remind her of the dangers of what she was doing. What she needed was people to tell her that it would all be okay, and not to worry because Dumbledore must know what he's doing.

* * *

"Okay, I need to admit to you that I'm not the most skilled legilimens, but I'm certainly going to try my best. I can certainly teach you enough about raising your occlumency barriers that someone can't just read your surface thoughts with eye contact. Beyond that, you'd probably have to learn from someone who's mastered the art." Tonks told Hermione. They were still sat on the worn sofa in Mad-Eye's living room, but he had excused himself once they had finished discussing the matter of the Order, telling Hermione that he had some important paperwork to catch up on.

"That's okay. I think that's all Dumbledore needed me to learn anyway. I'll admit, it's not an area of magic that I was that familiar with when he suggested it. I'd heard of it of course, but I'd carried out very little research. I've done a bit of reading in the last week or so though."

"Yeah, it's not something most people need to worry about learning for themselves. They encourage aurors to do it just to tighten up on our security, but even then, it's not compulsory. It's rather difficult to become a master legilimens so there aren't many people you'll meet that would even be able to use it against you. Better to be safe than sorry though." Tonks explained. Hermione nodded in understanding.

"I did read that I need to keep my mind clear, and that will make my thoughts appear clear? It sounded a lot like meditation to me." Hermione queried, recalling the advice from her borrowed books on the subject.

"Yes, that's part of it. That's definitely where we'll be beginning, but the goal is to create something that's a little more… substantial. It's difficult to keep your mind clear during a conversation, but if you create a defensive mechanism then that's easier to keep intact when you're multi-tasking. I personally go for a brick wall, which is what my teacher suggested to me."

"I think I understand. So, imagining an impenetrable object helps because you're naturally being defensive when you're blocking your mind, but it's difficult to maintain a calm, blank mind if you're feeling on edge?" Hermione asked, trying to figure out the reasoning.

"Yes! You've got it. I've got a couple of books that I can loan to you that I found especially helpful during my own training. It's not too difficult to pick up, but it is rather time consuming. I hope you're patient." Tonks laughed.

"I'm not sure about patient, but I'm pretty obsessive." Hermione told her as she laughed back.

"Well, fingers crossed we manage to get this done by Christmas!" Tonks smiled. "Okay, so to start I want you to turn to face me." Hermione did as she was told. "Good. I know I said we'd go over theory first, but I think it'll help you to have an idea of what you need to be practising between now and Thursday. I want you to close your eyes and just imagine a clear, blue ocean." Hermione followed her instruction and began her first of many occlumency lessons.

* * *

On Wednesday 11th September at 9:30pm Hermione found herself bottling her completed batch of Wiggenweld potion. She was acutely aware that since speaking with Dumbledore five days prior, she was still yet to summon the courage to ask Professor Snape if he would be okay with making this potion-brewing task of hers a more permanent agreement. She needed to do it before the end of the week, as this arrangement needed to be in place ready for next Thursday.

Hermione had noticed that during her detentions on Monday and Tuesday she had the funny feeling that she was being watched, but each time she glanced over at Snape he had his head down marking homework. She didn't know quite what to make of it, or if it was simply just in her head. Maybe he knew and was waiting for her to ask him – the Headmaster _had_ told her that he would speak to him. The thought of him ridiculing her for asking was more than a little daunting however; it wasn't something she had fully considered when she was praising Dumbledore for his brilliant idea. Snape had barely spoken to her the previous two evenings as well, which had only added to her discomfort. _You're just overthinking it_ , she thought to herself.

She finished screwing the lid on the final bottle of potion and put it in the wooden tray with the others. Picking the tray up, she walked over to Snape's desk and put them in front of him. "All done, Sir." She said with a small smile.

Snape shifted his gaze from his papers to her as she spoke. He placed his quill down and had a quick flick through the glass bottles of potion that Hermione had prepared. "These look to be in order. Thank you, Miss Granger. You may leave."

Hermione walked over to her bench and gathered her things, slinging her bag onto her shoulder. Taking a deep breath in she thought to herself: _It's now or never._

"Um, Sir… I've well… I mean-" Hermione spoke, cringing at her ineptitude to formulate a sentence. She swallowed thickly, took a deep breath, and tried not to be phased by the increasingly exasperated look on Snape's face. "I've been meaning to ask you something."

Snape raised a single eyebrow. "By all means, continue." He said sardonically.

"It's just… I rather enjoy brewing potions, and I was wondering if you would allow me to brew them for you, as I do during my detentions, every week?" She hated how clumsy she sounded.

Snape's face remained blank and Hermione couldn't determine what he was thinking. "What's brought you to this realisation? I've never once understood you to relish potion-making." He asked her.

"Well, I thought if I told you I didn't mind my detentions then you would naturally change the activity I carried out in them." Hermione answered, her tone suggesting that this were obvious. _At least that's actually true,_ she thought to herself.

Snape narrowed his eyes at her for a second, and then his face was blank once again. "Dumbledore may have mentioned to me that you had been considering this possibility. I was beginning to think that you had changed your mind, seeing as that conversation was on Friday."

"I wasn't entirely sure on how to approach the subject, so I suppose I'd been putting off mentioning it." She told him.

"Strange, Dumbledore made you sound so _eager_ to help me as a substitute for joining the Order."

"Joining the Order?" Hermione repeated without thinking, puzzled at his statement.

"Is that not how you remember your conversation with him?" Snape asked, raising both of his eyebrows.

"No, that's um, that's _exactly_ how our conversation went. Sorry. I don't suppose though that you could describe precisely what he said to you?" Hermione asked, trying to get a hold on the conversation.

"He told me that as you were too young to join the Order, you were thrilled to settle for helping me out with my workload as an alternative, as that would mean you could assist the Order in a roundabout way." He told her slowly, his eyes narrowing again.

Hermione nodded in agreement; her eyes were slightly wide as she absorbed the lie that Dumbledore had told him. "Yes, that sounds about right. I'm just ready to help in any way that I can. Afterall, that's why I had that tuition with you last year – I just want to help."

Snape smirked for a brief moment, but Hermione didn't know what was funny. "I don't suppose you've got any dates in mind for when you'll be brewing these potions?"

 _This isn't going as terribly as I expected,_ Hermione thought to herself. "Well, I was considering Mondays and Thursdays? Hopefully two days a week wouldn't be too disruptive for you?"

"That would be… satisfactory. Would you wish to start the week after next?"

"No! No, there's isn't any need for delay. I realise next Tuesday will still be a detention, but we can start from the Thursday." She said a little too firmly.

"You don't want… any sort of break?" He drawled.

"I just don't see the need." Hermione said as she nervously looked to the side.

"You clearly are _eager_ to practise potions." He looked at her as if he were trying to figure out an arithmancy calculation; Hermione felt uneasy. _Maybe this isn't going that well,_ she thought.

"As I told you, I enjoy it." She said resolutely.

"Of course. You are dismissed Granger." He said, lazily waving his hand. Hermione nodded and headed for the door.

 _I guess that could have gone worse,_ she thought to herself as she closed the classroom door behind her and released the breath she hadn't realised she was holding.

* * *

On Thursday 12th September Severus was sat at the High Table in the Great Hall at dinner time, seated between Trelawney and Umbridge. Fortunately, there was no danger of him entering into any idle chit-chat with either witch. Severus didn't necessarily mind talking to his colleagues during meals, a few of them he considered to be his friends, but he could barely tolerate the company of either of these women. This suited him well this evening though, as his mind was too busy trying to consider the situation with Granger to engage in small talk.

She was possibly one of the worst liars he had encountered, and he had witnessed countless first years trying to justifiably excuse why their homework was not in on time. She had cemented the notion that Dumbledore was lying straight to his face the other evening – and whatever the truth was, it involved her. He reasoned that her inability to keep her emotions off her face was no doubt a consequence of her being a Gryffindor.

The sensible solution appeared to be – and he had given this much thought over the last week – to play along with her lies, and to slowly gain her trust. Sometimes getting to the root of something involved playing the long game, but anything consciously being kept a secret from him by Dumbledore was worth discovering. Luckily, he didn't _hate_ spending time with her so it wouldn't be an especially loathsome task.

He had noticed however that she appeared to be more nervous around him this year compared to last. She never maintained eye-contact with him for any length of time, and in fact actively appeared to avoid it. Perhaps he had been too brash with her as of late. He was certain that a month or so of behaving kinder towards her should bring her back out of her shell, and then maybe he could get her to slip up. He had been able to go easier on her in class since she learnt last year that her incessant habit of hand-waving needed to cease, so there should be no reason for him to chastise her.

He had been surprised that it had taken her so long to pluck up the courage to ask him about arranging those sessions. _Another reason to go a little easier on her,_ he mused. _She won't be comfortable around me if she doesn't think I'm approachable._ He reserved his friendlier side for his Slytherin students only – it was important to him that he was a point of contact for any student in his house that needed him – but behind closed doors he could extend that behaviour towards Granger. He couldn't be too easy on her in public as students in his house could quite easily feedback his behaviour to their Death Eater parents. He didn't want to be forced to provide an excuse to the Dark Lord regarding his conduct towards a muggleborn student, nor draw unnecessary attention to the girl.

Of all the plans that Dumbledore had cooked up, on a surface level this looked to be something that he would at least benefit from in the short-term. He really didn't like brewing medicinal potions for Poppy, it always took away from his free time when he could be brewing something he actually wanted to. With a lighter list of demands, perhaps over the next few months he would be able to focus on creating something new entirely or develop an improvement on an existing potion. Exploring the science behind potion-making is what initially attracted him to the fine art. His job had become more demanding since he had taken up being a double-spy for a second time; it had not left much time for recreational experimentation.

He glanced over in the girl's direction. She was sat at the Gryffindor table talking animatedly to her friends, appearing to be in good spirits. He had thought a few times over the last year that he couldn't quite fathom why such a bright and talented girl would associate herself with the likes of Weasley and Potter. It was a waste that she hadn't been sorted into Ravenclaw, where she could rub shoulders with people of a higher calibre. He had a feeling that she certainly wouldn't get into nearly as much trouble if she had been sorted into a different house, and that she likely wouldn't have been dragged into a scheme of Dumbledore's. He often wondered what the Sorting Hat saw in her, when she appeared to be a textbook Ravenclaw. He wasn't the only member of staff that felt that way either – both Charity and Septima had expressed their confusion to him over her house sorting. Filius had said several times that he felt cheated that Granger had not been sorted into his house. Naturally, McGonagall was the only one that vehemently believed she belonged in Gryffindor.

He decided that the best time for him to implement his plan would be after she finished her scheduled detentions with him on Tuesday. If she were to ever query the change in his behaviour, it could then be explained away by saying that she was no longer serving a punishment with him, and so he saw no issue in talking to her more casually outside of lessons.

* * *

On Thursday 19th September at 7:45 Hermione was making her way back to Hogwarts through the tunnel connected to Honeydukes after another session with Tonks. She hadn't realised how little she would be seeing Mad-Eye during her meetings at his house, and whilst she didn't mind his company when he wasn't attacking her, she was secretly quite pleased to get a chance to know Tonks better. She enjoyed talking to her, and it seemed she always tried to remain respectful when she would cast the spell to enter her mind. She felt as if she was gaining a friend in Tonks. The older Hermione got the more she appreciated being able to talk to someone who wasn't in her own year group.

The books that Tonks gave her last week had both already been read cover to cover by Hermione – twice. She had also taken out an additional three books from the library that covered the subject, and it was what Hermione read each night before she fell asleep. Practising the meditation techniques helped her winddown too, and so she also found that she was sleeping much better; it was an unforeseen benefit to learning occlumency. Tonks had told her today that she could already see the difference in the space of a week. She still had a long way to go, but it was encouraging to hear that her efforts were paying off.

Now Hermione needed to make her way towards the dungeons to see Snape. She had asked him if he would be okay with her turning up to the Potions classroom not wearing her school uniform, seeing as lessons would be over for the day. Providing they didn't have detention, students were free to wear non-uniform clothing outside of lesson times, and so many would turn up to dinner in their own clothes. Attending in her uniform wouldn't have bothered Hermione, except she had learned it wasn't particularly practical to squeeze through the narrow tunnel wearing tights, as she kept damaging them and getting small scrapes on her legs. It was an issue that had easily been fixed with her magic – but it was a little tedious to do each time she left the passageway. Being able to wear jeans and trainers had proved far more suitable for the short journey.

Once she left the tunnel, she cast a quick cleansing charm over herself – it was the only spell she now needed to do once leaving the dirty space. The few grubby marks on her clothes immediately disappeared. She got out a compact mirror from the inside pocket of her hoodie – a pocket that she had magically transfigured many months ago when she bought the jacket, knowing it would come in useful for storing her wand and miscellaneous items. She glanced over her appearance and decided that it would be best to cast a charm to smooth away the frizzy flyaways that had appeared around her braid over the last couple of hours. _Much better_ , she thought to herself. It was always her preference to tie her hair up if she knew she was going to be practising potions, as she found that her long curls only served to get in the way.

By 7:55pm she had made it to the entrance of the Potions classroom. Snape had asked her to arrive at 8:00pm, as she had been doing for her detentions. She knocked on the door before slowly opening it and poking her head through.

"I'm a little early, sorry." Hermione said as she spotted Snape sat at his desk, marking the work of his other students as usual. He lifted his head up to look in her direction.

"It's fine, you may come in." He said, placing his quill down on his desk.

"Which potion would you like me to make today?" Hermione asked with a smile.

"Madam Pomfrey has asked for some more Pepper-Up Potion. We're heading into cold season and she always likes to have a large batch ready."

"Great, I'll get to work."

Snape didn't continue his marking, but instead watched Hermione as she started to gather her equipment.

"Is everything okay?" Hermione asked. He ordinarily behaved as if she wasn't in the room when she brewed for detentions, so it seemed odd that he was looking at her now.

"It's your birthday today, is it not?" He asked, confusion present in his voice.

It wasn't a question Hermione had been expecting. "Yes, I didn't realise you had memorised it, Sir?" She asked, feeling surprised.

"Don't flatter yourself." He barked at her. "I simply noticed your friends wishing you a happy birthday earlier in the day."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to suggest… of course you did." Hermione said sheepishly, feeling silly thinking for a moment he would have bothered to look something like that up.

Snape furrowed his brow, but the expression was gone almost as soon as it came. "You know these sessions are no longer detentions? You do not need to be here on your birthday. I'd forgive you for wishing to leave." He told her.

"I know, but I'm happy to be here. I told you I wanted to help out." Hermione said firmly, trying to assure Snape of how willing she was.

"I'm not trying to trick you Granger, you may leave tonight if you would rather celebrate your birthday – It's not every day that you turn 16." Snape said trying to put her at ease.

"Honestly, I'm content here." Hermione said decidedly. "I celebrated my birthday earlier on in the day."

"If you're certain." Snape replied, sounding unsure of her decision. He stood up from his chair and walked towards her. "Allow me to help with your workload at least, so you may leave sooner."

"No really, I'm more than happy to do it all by myself. I promise I won't disturb you." Hermione said, sounding nervous. _Is he having second thoughts on this arrangement?_ She thought to herself. _W_ _hy is he so keen to get rid of me?_

Snape raised both eyebrows at this, uncharacteristically showing his surprise. "I had no idea how much you enjoyed brewing potions independently. Your continuous drive to assist Longbottom suggested to me that you were more than pleased to work with others." He snapped at her. _Have I offended him?_ Hermione wondered to herself.

"No, it's just, um-" Hermione started, trying to stall to find her words. "As Dumbledore told you, I want to ease your workload, and that doesn't really work if you're helping me. I don't want you thinking I can't do this; I really want to be as little trouble as possible." She said trying to explain her apprehension.

"This is hardly any trouble to me Granger. You are aware that I ordinarily must brew these by myself? You're still halving my workload. If you're hellbent on doing this on your own however, then go ahead. I thought you may have appreciated having a little more of the evening to do as you please." He told her.

"You're not changing your mind about me helping you?" Hermione queried – she needed to be certain of what he was telling her.

"What? Granger if I wanted you gone believe me you wouldn't be here." He said, curling his lip in distaste. "Now, would you like my help, or shall I return to my own work?"

"I would appreciate the helping hand, Professor. Thank you." She said as she smiled up at him, feeling relieved.

Hermione went to the store cupboard to collect the ingredients that she would need as Snape started to preheat her cauldron. He summoned a chopping board and knife to the workbench and positioned himself so he would be sat opposite her.

"Would you like to chop the mandrake root or grind the bicorn horn?" Hermione asked, holding both options out to him.

"I'll take the bicorn horn. I want you to show me how you've been chopping your mandrake root since I last spoke to you about it."

Hermione nodded and started to cut thin slithers from the mandrake root as Snape watched her movements.

"When holding the handle of the knife your index finger and thumb should be on the top of the blade itself. That will give you more control over your movements, and it will allow you to chop faster. Otherwise, your technique has improved." He said curtly.

Hermione thanked him, feeling appreciative for the advice. She had no idea what had brought on the sudden change in his attitude towards her today, but it was welcome. _Perhaps he's just feeling guilty for treating me unfairly over the summer and for giving me those detentions,_ Hermione thought to herself. _Then again, that seems unlikely. Whatever the reason, I'm sure he'll be back to normal by Monday._

* * *

Severus and Granger managed to complete a batch of 30 bottles of Pepper-Up Potion within a mere 40 minutes. With the preparation time halved, it had not taken long to complete. The pair had worked harmoniously.

Granger screwed the lid on the last bottle of potion and placed it in the wooden tray. Severus had finished bottling his share of the potions just moments before and was now sat back in his chair opposite her watching her with intrigue.

"Thank you for helping me today and well, allowing me to brew potions outside of classroom hours."

"There's no need to thank me Granger." Severus told her with the smallest of smiles.

"I really do appreciate it though." She assured him as she stood up from her chair. "I suppose I'll be heading off now. Goodnight Professor."

"Goodnight Granger." He replied, standing up from his own chair. "Oh, and I suppose I should wish you a happy birthday." He added just as she reached the door.

"Thank you." She replied. She turned to look at him with a sunny smile, before then leaving the room.

 _I suppose that went well,_ Severus thought to himself as he walked over to his desk chair to reflect on the last hour. He leaned back in his seat and thought to himself: _A little difficult to begin with, but she was clearly unsure of herself and misunderstood my intentions. It is noteworthy that the idea of losing this arrangement had her so defensive. Dumbledore must have told her it was important to be here. The reason can't be for her to brew for Poppy, so it's something else. But what?_ He tapped his lip as he considered possible solutions to this puzzle.

He thought it had been rather fortunate that her birthday had been today as it had given him an opportunity to offer her a favour, and to be able to rationalise it. It was the first step in building the friendship he ultimately needed to find out answers from her.


	10. Chapter 10

On Monday 23rd September Hermione arrived at the Potions classroom as per her arrangement with Snape. She hadn't been in the brightest of moods since her Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, which had been the last class of the day. It had affected her ability to keep her mind clear in the short amount of practise she had with Tonks on her occlumency earlier on in the evening. Hermione had wished it had been a Thursday, as she could have done with the hour of meditation. She had to apologise to Tonks today for not being on her best form and had promised her that by Thursday she would be better.

The problem was that they were almost a month into the term, and they were _still_ not being taught anything. She was aware weeks ago that the lessons would be frustratingly unchallenging this year, but she had not expected this watered-down babble from Umbridge. Even putting aside the horrible timing of Voldemort returning, Hermione just could not fathom how a ministry official could justify such an appallingly lacklustre curriculum for a core subject.

She took a deep breath to calm herself and knocked on the heavy wooden door before stepping foot inside the dimly lit classroom. "Good evening, Professor." She spoke in greeting.

"Granger." He replied with a small smile. He then stood up and walked over to a tall wooden cabinet in the corner of the room which held a stash of potions. He flicked his wand to unlock the cabinet and looked over its contents.

"Which potion would you like me to brew today?" She asked as she placed her bag on a nearby chair.

"Well, looking at the stock here it appears as if I'm the lowest on Sleeping Draught. You've not covered it in classes yet, but I can't imagine you would have too much difficulty with it. Would you like me to go through it with you?" He asked as he turned to face her, his tone uncharacteristically polite.

"No that's fine, I've read about it before. I'll be okay." Hermione told him, reflecting on the time she poisoned Crabbe and Goyle with it in her second year.

"You're sure?" He asked her with a quirk of his eyebrow.

Hermione just simply nodded, just wishing to get on with the task ahead of her. She didn't ordinarily mind brewing, but her current mood just wanted to make her go to bed and try to forget for a moment about how she was starting to hate Umbridge, and how her short occlumency session with Tonks today was a failure.

"Well, I suppose you may start then." Snape said, furrowing his brow for the briefest of moments. He then turned to walk back towards his desk, picked up a stack of papers, and returned to the desk that Hermione had chosen to brew on. He sat down opposite her workstation and made himself comfortable.

Hermione, who was gathering the ingredients for the Sleeping Draught, paused for a few seconds. Prior to last Thursday when he had been helping her, he _always_ sat at his desk.

"Sir?" She asked, confusion present in her voice.

"Granger?"

"Would you not be more comfortable at your desk?"

"Well, technically Granger all of these desks are _my_ desks." He quipped.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I just meant that you don't normally sit so close to me."

"Well that's because you always brew potions that you're familiar with. By sitting here, I can easily help you if need be." He explained.

"I brewed Pepper-Up Potion for you before we covered it in class. You didn't help me then." Hermione said, frowning.

"That was a detention Granger, this is not. Besides, it was a potion you were due to learn that year. You are not expected to learn this one until next."

Hermione nodded and continued to get her ingredients ready to use. She grabbed a sixth-year potions book from the bookcase and flicked it open to the centre, where she roughly remembered the potion to be. She had only been three pages off on her estimate.

Snape noticed her accuracy and raised his eyebrows, but he did not say anything.

Without needing to glance at the book Hermione gathered the lavender and standard ingredient and began to crush the two together. Once she had created a paste, she then set to work putting various other ingredients into her potion to gently heat them through. After a few minutes she then added the paste to the concoction and waved her wand. Hermione knew she then needed to leave the mixture alone to brew but needed to check the book to confirm the length of time. After reading that she would need to wait 70 minutes she involuntary let out a frustrated sigh, and took a seat next to her cauldron. She scrubbed her face with her hands, feeling rather sorry for herself; it would be a long time before she would be allowed to sleep tonight.

"Is everything okay, Granger?" Snape asked.

"Just fine, Sir." Hermione answered with a disingenuous smile.

"You were correct about being familiar with the potion, you barely glanced at that book." He said.

"It would be a rather strange thing to lie about, wouldn't it?" Hermione said, her tone shorter than she intended it to sound.

"Indeed, but it is also strange that a fifth-year student would be so confident producing such a potion." He drawled. Hermione didn't say anything to that, so he sardonically continued, "You seemed like you were rather enjoying grinding up that lavender. I believe that's the second time I've seen you take your frustrations out on potions ingredients. I suppose I now understand what you find so therapeutic about brewing."

Hermione looked sheepish. "I'm sorry, I've been a bit… off this evening."

"You don't need to apologise to me." He said simply.

"Are you sure? The last time you deducted house points from me."

"I suppose I did." He said with a smirk. Hermione frowned, but again chose not to speak. "You've got a long time to wait until that potion is ready for you to add to it, if you need to talk to someone about what's on your mind I'm right here." Snape offered.

Hermione stared at him for a few moments before saying anything, stunned that the dour man opposite her was presenting himself as a listening ear. "Forgive me Sir, but you've never seemed to be the nurturing sort."

"I am a head of house Granger, where do you think the Slytherins go to when they have a problem?"

"I guess I never really considered it." Hermione said, her eyebrows knitting together. "Have you ever offered such a service to anyone from my house though? You always seem like you hate us."

Snape scoffed at her remark. "I don't suppose I have. But I don't hate _all_ Gryffindors. A select few of you are almost tolerable, but that's only when I suspect the sorting hat has made a mistake."

Hermione smiled at this. "Really? Where do I fall? Do you hate me, or am I 'almost tolerable'?"

"I couldn't possibly say." He said wryly. "So, what is this problem of yours?"

"I don't know if I should say..." Hermione said, sounding uncertain.

"I assure you that whatever it is that's troubling you will not leave these four walls if you do not wish it to." He told her.

"Even if it's about another professor?" Hermione said, chewing her lip.

"Then I'll still be a man of my word." He told her firmly.

Hermione sighed deeply. "It's just… it's Professor Umbridge. She's _awful._ "

Snape let out a small laugh. "I don't believe you're the only person at Hogwarts that doesn't find her particularly likeable."

"It's not that she's just unpleasant though! I don't need to like a professor personally to feel like their lessons are worthwhile, but the things she's teaching us, it's ridiculous!" She cried.

"What is it exactly that she's teaching you?" He asked, furrowing his brow.

"That's the problem, she's not teaching us anything! She spent two hours today going through polite phrases that can be used to diffuse an argument. The idea is that if you're enough of a people person then there's absolutely no way you're going to find yourself under attack. It's utterly pointless, not to mention entirely unrealistic! I don't know when this war is going to come to a head, but I do know that asking a Death Eater if they wouldn't mind lowering their wand is practically suicide." She ranted. It was the first time today that she had been able to get this off her chest, and so the words quickly came pouring out.

Snape looked to be in his thoughts for a few moments, pondering what she was telling him. "Is it possible that the lessons are simply starting at a slower rate than you're accustomed to? Perhaps in a month's time you will be practising spells?" He asked her.

Hermione laughed bitterly. "I wish that were true. I read the book covering the curriculum weeks back, unfortunately it's just more of the same. We've spoken about her in the Gryffindor common room, and everyone agrees that the lessons are useless, but _nothing_ is being done. We can all sit around and complain about our circumstances, but what good does that truly do?"

"I'll admit to you – and I ask that you don't repeat that I've said this – but as a school we have certainly burned through a fair few incompetent Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers over the years, but her new curriculum is possibly one of the worst yet from what you've told me." Snape said, tapping his chin in thought. "Have you raised your concerns with her?"

"Harry did, and as you can imagine, it didn't go well. I don't think any professor would appreciate being told how to handle their job by a student, and she's hardly got the most affable nature to begin with. The fact that she's got the ministry on her side just makes her feel even more in the right." Hermione said sadly. "Did you have any… interesting Defence Against the Dark Arts professors when you were in school, Sir?" Hermione asked after a moment of silence.

Snape's eyebrows shot up in surprise at her question. "If by interesting you mean inept, then certainly. One that comes to mind is Professor Horne. She was relatively young for a professor, from what I remember she looked to be in her 20s, possibly her 30s. The peculiar thing about her though was that she was terribly timid. Almost every time she cast a spell, she had to do it with her eyes closed because she feared what would happen. As you can imagine, there were a fair few mishaps in her class." He said with a smirk, his eyes distant as he recalled the story.

Hermione laughed. "That does sound pretty awful. How on earth did she get the job?" She asked in disbelief.

"Well, as you may have gathered by now Granger, there's a bit of a staff retention problem with that position. Sometimes the Headmaster is a little challenged with his available options." He drawled.

"Yes, I suppose so. At least there's a silver lining there, Professor Umbridge will soon be gone." She reasoned.

"You don't know that. She might not remain a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, but there are other positions within the school."

"You don't think… but what about Dumbledore?" Hermione asked.

"He's not been very popular as of late, do you really think it is unfathomable that he might be replaced? I'm not saying he will, in fact I hope for the opposite, but it's something you should brace yourself for."

Hermione felt a little sick at the thought. "I'm not sure if I really want to think about that right now." Snape didn't say anything, he just looked at her. "How long have you been teaching for? If you don't mind me asking." Hermione asked, looking to change the subject.

"I'm not too sure off the top of my head." He replied as he scratched at his 5 o'clock shadow. "Let me see, I started when I was 20, so I suppose 14 years ago."

"You started teaching age 20? That couldn't have been easy, what with controlling a classroom and all."

"No, it wasn't exactly where I had imagined I'd be at the time. The students eventually came round to respecting me." He told her. Hermione had been in his classroom enough over the years to understand how he had earned that respect without needing to ask him.

The pair of them sat talking for a further 55 minutes as they waited for the Sleeping Draught to brew. They were so caught up in their conversation that it had come as a surprise for both of them when the magical timer Hermione had set alerted them that the potion was ready to add further ingredients to.

* * *

On Monday 7th October Hermione walked into Snape's classroom ready to work on another potion.

"Ah, Granger. On time as always." Snape said, smiling slightly as she walked through the doors.

"You know me." She replied, returning his smile.

He stood up from his desk and walked towards her. "I need you to brew a small batch of Wiggenweld potion for me tonight. Fairly straightforward as you know, but quite a few ingredients. I'll give you a hand getting them ready." He said before turning towards his storeroom cupboard.

"Oh, thank you! Which book is the recipe in again? First or second year?" She asked as she walked over to the book cabinet, feeling grateful for his help.

"Second year." He called from the storeroom. Hermione grabbed the book from the cabinet and summoned her equipment to a nearby workbench. She glanced down the ingredient list and tried to devote as many to memory as she could – this particular potion had 21 ingredients. She then walked over to the storeroom to assist Snape in collecting them.

"Which ingredients have you already picked up?" She asked him as she entered the small space.

"I've got the chizpurfle fangs, billywig sting slime, and flobberworm mucus."

"All such appealing names." Hermione muttered under her breath as she began searching for the dittany.

After collecting several of the necessary ingredients Hermione began scanning the shelves for horklump juice and soon realised that it was two shelves out of her reach, even when she stretched. Before she could turn to grab the small ladder in the room, she felt Snape come up behind her and reach for the ingredient she had struggled to retrieve, except due to his tall stature he managed to do it with ease.

"Perhaps it's easier if I grab this one, no?" He said.

Hermione turned around to face him, surprised at their proximity – one step forward and her face would have been in his chest. "Thank you, a lot of the ingredients in here are out of my reach if I don't use the ladder."

"Good thing I'm here then." He smiled.

It was very unusual for Hermione to be stood this close to him. She could see the dark stubble on his cheeks that she had noticed started to come through in the evenings, the fine lines around his dark eyes, but even more noticeably she could smell him. It was a warm scent, and she was certain she could detect sandalwood. The smell was pleasant, enough so that she had to actively suppress the urge to take a deeper whiff.

"Is that all of the ingredients?" She asked as she swallowed thickly, breaking the silence.

"I believe so, but it'll be easier to check once they're laid out on the workbench."

Hermione nodded and followed him through to the classroom. After laying the ingredients out on the table she counted each of them in her head and double-checked they were correct.

"Great, I think I can get to work." She said smiling up at him. He returned her smile and sat down opposite her. He silently accioed a book and caught it effortlessly with his right hand. Hermione watched the motion, impressed at how elegant he often was. Whilst she certainly wasn't as clumsy as Tonks, she had never quite learnt how to conduct herself with grace.

She started pouring some of the salamander blood into her cauldron as she considered the man in front of her. The dynamic had certainly changed from how it was during her detentions. At times it almost felt as if she were spending time with a friend, but that would of course be ridiculous as it was Snape. This was the sixth time she had come here since her detentions had ended, and he still was yet to speak to her derisively.

"Why are you being nice to me?" She asked. The thought had barely been processed before she had asked her question, her mouth having seemingly chosen to speak of its own accord.

He looked up from his book, visibly surprised at her question. "Would you like me to be mean to you?" He asked.

"Well, no, of course not. You're just not normally so…" She trailed off, struggling to think of an unoffensive way to finish her sentence.

"Do go on." He insisted, his eyes now narrowed.

"Well, I'm not sure how to word it." She said. She was starting to regret asking him such a question, as surely this conversation would not end well for her. _You could have just enjoyed it, you didn't need to ruin it,_ she thought to herself.

"Take a moment, I'm sure your brain will fill in the blanks." He pushed, irritation creeping into his voice. Hermione found it difficult to interpret what he was thinking from the expression on his face.

 _In for a penny, in for a pound_ , Hermione thought to herself. "You're just not normally friendly. At least, not to me. I'm sure there are many people that like you."

"Are you saying that you don't like me?" He asked.

"That's not what I said." Hermione countered.

"It certainly sounded awfully close." He retorted.

"Well, you've not exactly been the most agreeable person over the years." Hermione scoffed.

"Name one time I've been unkind to you, and not just disciplining you for inappropriate behaviour in the classroom." He argued, referencing his distaste for her hand-waving.

"Firstly, I would argue that showing an interest in your class is _not_ inappropriate behaviour, at least I bother to learn the material. However, to answer your question, telling me you _see no difference_ in the size of my teeth as they grew in line with my shoulders was cruel." Hermione said with a sniff.

Snape laughed in disbelief. "What was that, a year ago?"

"Does it matter when it was?" Hermione asked wide-eyed, frustrated with his indifference.

"You're being ridiculous." He said dismissively.

"Forget my original question, I see that you've quickly returned to your usual self." She said waspishly as she stirred her potion vigorously.

Snape leaned over the desk and covered her hand with his. "You need to slow your stirring, or you'll have to start from scratch." He told her mildly.

Hermione slowed her movements and he removed his hand. The shock of him touching her bringing enough clarity to the moment to know that he was correct, even if she didn't like it.

"I figured if we were spending more time with each other, it would be less painful if it didn't feel like these sessions were an extension of my teaching. I thought you would prefer it if I refrained from speaking to you like you are a child." He explained.

"I do prefer it. I didn't mean to be argumentative, I just… I don't know. I spoke without thinking." She said whilst shaking her head.

"I want you to feel as if you can speak your mind in front of me Granger." He told her looking directly into her eyes. Hermione found it a little unnerving. She was still trying to avoid prolonged eye contact as she developed her occlumency, and his eyes were so dark and tunnel-like she often thought it would be too easy to stare into them.

"Since we're asking each other questions," Snape continued. "I don't suppose if the Education Decree 24 has anything to do with you?" He asked, smirking.

The Education Decree 24 was the latest edition added by Umbridge just earlier this afternoon. It was a direct response to her finding out about the meeting Hermione had with Harry, Ron, and anyone that was interested in acting against the lack of DADA teaching this year. They had collectively agreed to call the group Dumbledore's Army.

Hermione pulled an exaggeratedly innocent expression. "You'll have to remind me Sir, which decree is that? There's been so many as of late, I struggle to keep up." She said humorously.

"It's the Decree that prevents groups of students larger than 3 people from forming, with the consequence of immediate expulsion. Ringing any bells?" He asked, playing along with her wit.

Hermione tapped her chin, pretending to be deep in thought. "Yes, I think I noticed that one going up. Pity, the Gobstones Club has been terribly upset."

"You're scaring her you know." He said, his tone turning serious. "She wouldn't create the decree if she wasn't worried." Hermione wasn't too sure what to say to this, so she didn't say a thing. "I'm glad you decided to do something. Someone needed to." He continued.

"How did you know I was involved?" She asked.

"You were spotted in the group. Umbridge told me."

"Do you speak to her much? Umbridge?"

"She seeks me out. She was five years below me in school, she was in her sixth year when I became her head of house. I imagine she trusts me because she thinks we share similar… beliefs."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"If anyone wished to find out, it's not exactly difficult to learn of my affiliation with the Death Eaters. Especially not for a ministry official, people do after all gossip. Even if I was cleared, that sort of fact puts a dark cloud over your reputation. Whilst she's certainly not a Death Eater, she undoubtedly sympathises with their cause." He told her sombrely.

"Sirius told us that she was responsible for the anti-werewolf laws. I had wondered whether or not those beliefs extended to… well, people like myself."

"Unfortunately so." He confirmed.

"It must be pretty dreadful being forced to talk to her." Hermione teased, trying to lighten the tone.

"I'm afraid so. Fortunately, I've learned a lot of patience from being obligated to spend my evenings with you, so at least I'm experienced in muddling through unwanted conversations." He said drily.

"See, this is exactly what I'm talking about with you being uncharacteristically nice. I mean, where are these compliments coming from?" Hermione laughed.

"I'm sorry, I'll have to tone it down." He chuckled back.

* * *

On the 17th October Hermione was sat cross-legged opposite Tonks on Mad-Eye's threadbare living room carpet. As was customary on a Thursday, Mad-Eye was not around despite them being in his home. Hermione assumed that he must have been somewhere within the house, as he did not strike her as someone trusting enough to allow others here unattended.

"You're doing really well! Your ocean work is really solid. Well, I guess not solid as it's water… but you know what I mean." Tonks laughed. "I think we're ready to move onto the brick wall concept. How are you feeling about your progress?"

"I think it's coming along okay. I'm not too sure what good progress necessarily is as I don't know how quickly people usually learn this. I've been trying to practice a brick wall when I get a chance but I'm struggling more with that idea." Hermione replied.

"Can I take a look?" Tonks asked. Hermione nodded in response. "Legilimens." Tonks said, casting the spell.

Hermione quickly got to work piecing together a brick wall, watching as each brick rapidly laid itself onto another. There were small gaps in-between a few of the bricks, misaligned in her haste to get them on their quickly. Once fully formed, she felt Tonks gently push against the wall, and the wall managed to hold still. When Tonks pushed a little harder however, a brick fell and the several bricks it was supporting toppled with it, breaking the barrier. Tonks then withdrew from her mind.

"Okay, I see what you mean. Great work for a beginner, but you just need to focus on placing those bricks down more accurately. You want to move away from building a wall, and towards there already being one when I enter your mind." Tonks said with a reassuring smile.

"Thank you. Sometimes I worry that I'm not progressing as I should." Hermione admitted, shaking her head.

"You shouldn't! Honestly, there are plenty of people that can never pick this up. It took me 8 months; the fact you've come this far in just a month is amazing. We're right on track to getting this skill under your belt by Christmas." Tonks smiled.

"Can we keep practising, to see if I can improve this session?" Hermione asked.

"Of course. Are you ready for me to go again?" Tonks answered. Hermione nodded her consent.

"Legilimens!" Said Tonks, going back inside of Hermione's mind.

* * *

It was 4th November and Severus was sat at his desk waiting for Granger to walk through his classroom doors. They had been meeting every Monday and Thursday for several weeks now, and he had been surprised at how it was something he occasionally caught himself looking forward to – not that he would ever admit that to anyone, and certainly never her.

He had made the calculated decision to try and befriend her so he would be able to learn more about what she and Dumbledore were up to together. What he had not expected was that she would be a generally easy person for him to talk to. He wasn't sure if it was because it had been a long time since someone had tried to get to know him – he was hardly meeting many new people day-to-day working in a boarding school – or if it was something about her. He told himself that it was entirely a consequence of his need to talk to new people, and he wouldn't ordinarily enjoy conversing with a 16-year-old. He found it slightly too easy at times to forget her age when they were deep in conversation.

He heard a knock and before he could answer, Granger had walked through the door. She smiled at him weakly. "Which potion today?" She asked skipping over a greeting, all the while barely glancing at him.

"Poppy has asked for a small batch of Skele-Gro." He told her as he watched her put her bag down and head straight for the book cabinet. After a long stretch of silence, he asked "Did you have a nice weekend?"

Granger rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. "What do you think?" She answered as she walked into the store cupboard to retrieve the ingredients she needed. He got out of his seat and followed her to stand by the doorway of the storeroom.

"Well, Gryffindor unfortunately won the quidditch match against Slytherin on Saturday so I would expect that would raise your spirits?" He smirked.

"Yes, and then _Malfoy_ decided to be a prat." She snapped. As soon as she spoke, she whipped round and put her hand over her mouth, as if in surprise at her own choice of words. "Sorry! I shouldn't speak like that around you." She winced, likely expecting him to chastise her.

"I've told you before not to worry about what you say when you're here. You're doing me a favour after all; it wouldn't be fair to discipline you." Severus spoke softly. "Although I would counter and say that if Potter had the capacity to control his temper, then he wouldn't be in his current predicament."

"You saw the match! Malfoy was taunting Harry – in addition to the rest of Slytherin house mocking Ron." She said as she swept past him, dumping the potion ingredients onto the nearest workbench.

"Oh come on, they only said it in jest. You know sports tend to get people in high spirits." He replied, coming to sit opposite her workstation as was now routine for the pair. She stared at him wide-eyed, dumbfounded.

"You do know Harry has been _banned_ from playing right? For the rest of his academic career?" She asked.

"As I told you, Potter should have handled it differently. He's hardly regarded favourably by Umbridge, it's not shocking to me that she was waiting for an opportunity. It shouldn't have been shocking to him." He reasoned.

"That's not _fair_ though. He should be allowed to have a conversation with Malfoy about the way he was treating him! He should be allowed to stand up for himself." Granger scoffed.

"Many things in life are not _fair,_ Granger. That's a problem with this mentality that possesses your housemates, you all throw yourselves into ways to protest what you perceive to be unjust, but you never _think_ about how you can use a situation for your benefit. Honestly, it's a pity you weren't sorted into Ravenclaw, it would have certainly aided your outlook on life."

Granger laughed mirthlessly. "There is nothing wrong with being a Gryffindor! Being manipulative is not a positive trait, despite what you Slytherins preach! I'm proud of where I was sorted."

"You're just defensive because you've been surrounded by them for too many years." He said. Granger rolled her eyes and he continued, "Tell me, how long did the Sorting Hat consider placing you in Ravenclaw?" He asked – it was a question he had been curious to ask for quite some time now.

Granger stopped her work for a moment to look up in thought. "It was the first thing it said to me, but it soon told me that it wasn't the right choice. That I could work well in Ravenclaw, but I would never reach my potential." She then looked at him and asked, "Did it ever consider placing you in a different house?"

"No. It was very firm, I belong in Slytherin." He told her simply. He had been sorted after Lily had been placed in Gryffindor, and he was aware of the historic rivalry between the two houses. He had pleaded with the hat to place him somewhere else, so nothing would come between Lily and him, but the hat was so confident of its decision that it didn't entertain the possibility.

There was a stretch of silence before Granger changed the subject. "Don't they make a branded Skele-Gro?" She asked, wrinkling her nose in thought – Severus had observed this was something she often did.

"Yes, but it's cheaper to brew. Poppy will only place an order for the manufactured one if I'm falling a little behind on brewing for her. You've made sure we're on top of everything though, so it's been a nonissue this year."

"I suppose that makes sense." She said before covering her mouth to yawn. "I do apologise, clearly I need to get more sleep." She said softly.

"You'd think that being 16 you would have more energy. Try getting through a full day being in your 30s." He smirked.

She blinked at him for a second as if confused, before saying, "Yes, I suppose so. You make being in your 30s sound as if you're old." She smiled.

"Well, I'm more than twice your age so I'm hardly young." Severus said raising his eyebrows. Granger looked doubtful.

As he watched her work, he could see that she did look tired and she looked to be thinking about each step in the potion for at least twice the length of time she normally would. "Do you need me to lend a hand? So, you can leave earlier?" He offered.

"No! It's fine, I'll be fine. I'm meant to be helping you, and that doesn't exactly work if you end up doing the work for me." She told him.

"There's no need to run yourself into the ground though." He told her, but she didn't respond. "Have you been struggling to sleep?" He asked, unsure why he even cared.

"Not especially. I guess I'm just having too many late nights." She said dismissively. "Harry and the Weasleys have been very upset about him, Fred, and George being banned from quidditch. I guess we were up quite late talking about it yesterday."

"Is it just that? I know it's believed a group of the student body are meeting together, yourself included. Umbridge certainly suspects you. Is it becoming too much?"

Granger smiled at this. "Yeah, I've gathered that we've been getting under her skin a bit." Her smile fell and she paused for a moment before continuing, "I would ask if I can trust you, but I suppose that's a redundant question isn't it?"

Severus furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"If I can trust you, you'd tell me so. If I couldn't, you'd still tell me that I could. So, it's a useless question." She explained.

"You think I would tell Umbridge if you were up to something?" He asked, frowning. _So much for thinking she'll come clean about Dumbledore if she thinks that little of me,_ Severus thought to himself. He tried to suppress the twisting sensation in his gut at her lack of trust, _she's a student, it doesn't matter what she thinks of you._

Granger didn't say anything, she simply glanced at him before continuing to work on her potion.

"I asked you a question." He said through gritted teeth. _Don't lose your temper, don't scare her away._

"What do you want me to tell you?" She asked.

"What you're thinking would be a good start." He barked.

"I want to trust you." She told him as she stared at her potion.

"Then why don't you try?" He asked. _Maybe this is good, if I can persuade her to talk to me about her club, then she'll eventually feel able to talk to me about her situation with Dumbledore._

Granger simply smiled, but she didn't look happy and she didn't say anything. Severus sighed deeply and pinched his large nose in frustration.

"Do you think I have some sort of loyalty to that toad?" He snapped. She raised her eyebrows, most likely surprised at his choice of language.

"Why wouldn't you? You're both Slytherins, you both went to school with each other, she has a very evident preference for students in your house. You said she _seeks you out._ You despise Harry, you don't like my friends, and you tolerate me." She explained, looking directly at him. It was unusual for her to make eye contact with him, and it somehow made his gut hurt a little more.

"You've misjudged me if you think I'd align myself with someone like her." He said defending himself. "If you tell me what you're up to, I might actually be able to help you." He pleaded with her.

"Another time, perhaps." She said softly. _She needs time, that's fine. She can still come round,_ he thought to himself as he watched her brew, trying to ignore how her words made him feel.


	11. Chapter 11

On Wednesday 20th November Hermione was conducting her usual evening rounds. On these days she was always assigned the area of the school near the Hufflepuff common rooms. Whilst she did not patrol the actual basement area, she walked around just one floor above. If a Hufflepuff student was going to be out of bed, this would often be where they would loiter, and thus it was an area that prefects were expected to monitor.

Hermione had found that carrying out rounds often proved to be a tedious task, as typically there would be nothing to do other than walk around for an hour or so. Most students did not sneak out after curfew, or if they did, they were at least smart enough to not get caught. The majority of the students that Hermione did need to chastise were typically in their first or second year. Hermione figured this was because they were inexperienced and didn't have a broad enough knowledge of spells that would be useful in concealing yourself. After all, most students weren't fortunate enough to have a best friend that had inherited an invisibility cloak.

As Hermione got closer to the kitchens – which were located only round the corner from the stairs leading to the Hufflepuff common room – she spotted Dobby standing by the kitchen door. His large eyes bulged happily upon seeing her, and she smiled in greeting.

"Miss! Dobby had heard from another elf that you were close, and Dobby thought he would say hello!" He said excitably. "I hope Dobby is not being a problem for you Miss." He continued, panic beginning to creep into his voice. It always broke Hermione's heart when he doubted himself, as it was clearly a side-effect from his mistreatment at the hand of the Malfoys.

"Not at all Dobby! My rounds have been awfully quiet, it's nice to see a friendly face to break up the monotony." She said warmly, reassuring him.

"Miss considers Dobby a friend? Thank you, Miss! You are very kind. Dobby can see why you are the great Harry Potter's friend Miss!" Dobby replied, bowing gratefully before her.

"Please Dobby, there's no need to thank me." She said, shaking her head. "I was hoping I would run into you tonight actually." Hermione said as she dug into the inside pocket of her robe to retrieve a pair of socks that she had handknitted for the house-elf. "Here you go! I hope you like them, Harry said you like this sort of thing. I made them myself."

Dobby immediately started to cry, tears pooling in his large eyes. Hermione assumed that this was a negative response, and so swallowed nervously. "I'm sorry, honestly. You don't need to take them if you don't want to."

Dobby reached up to her hands to take the offered socks. "Miss, you misunderstand Dobby. No one has ever _knitted_ a gift for Dobby before. Thank you, Miss!" He said, wiping the wetness from his eyes with one of his pale spindly fingers.

"Oh, that's a relief! I was worried I had upset you for a moment back there!" Hermione chuckled. "I'm glad that you like them. Anyway, I need to get back to patrolling these corridors." She said, gesturing behind her.

"Of course, Miss. Dobby will not be keeping you any longer, Miss."

"You can call me Hermione you know?" She offered. Dobby nodded his head, as more tears leaked from his eyes.

His gratitude over such a small gesture pulled at Hermione's heartstrings. She had been shocked upon learning last year how terribly house-elves are treated by wizards. Then this summer she discovered the taxidermy in Grimmauld Place – it was enough to produce bile at the back of her throat. If she hadn't been so stretched thin between learning occlumency and attending meetings, covering up her attendance by spending time with Snape, the D.A., and her prefect duties then she would have found a way to protest on behalf of them. Now however, it was something that unfortunately would have to be put on the back burner. She conceded she could at least try to find time to commit herself to small acts of kindness, which is why she had handknitted a pair of chunky socks for Dobby.

Hermione noticed that Dobby's gaze had shifted to just beyond her shoulder. She turned around to see what he was looking at, expecting to see a student out of bed.

Snape was standing in the corner of the corridor, having just walked round the bend. A look of confusion was uncharacteristically present on his features. She turned to look back at Dobby, but he had vanished.

"Good evening, Sir." Hermione turned back round to greet him, being the first to speak.

"Why are you talking to the house-elves?" He asked incredulously, skipping any formalities.

"Oh Dobby? Harry introduced me to him last year. We're friends." Hermione explained.

"Friends? With a _house-elf?_ " He asked, perplexed.

"Yes. Yes, I am. Is there a problem with that, Sir?" Hermione asked defensively, wrinkling her nose in distaste at his attitude.

Then, in a move that was highly unlike the dour man, he burst out laughing. A genuine smile graced his features, and Hermione may have taken a moment to appreciate how it suited him, if the reason why he was laughing wasn't so offensive to her.

Hermione scoffed in disbelief at his response. "If you would pardon me, I need to continue my rounds." She told him as she held her head up high and walked straight past him.

"Excuse me Granger, trust I mean no offense." Snape said, cheer still present in his voice as he turned to face her retreating figure.

"There's no need to explain yourself, I understand your meaning." She snapped, whipping round to face him. His smile fell as he realised the extent of which he had insulted her.

He maintained eye contact with her for a moment before explaining himself, "It's just unheard of for a witch to be friends with something like a house-elf."

"Some _thing?_ " She repeated his words. "You think of them as _things?_ " She asked. She knew that many wizards possessed this mindset but had not been expecting such an outlook from _him._

"Clearly I worded myself poorly." He said through gritted teeth. "You must know it's unusual though, even as a muggleborn?" He asked.

Hermione crossed her arms. "Yes, even as a lowly muggleborn I am aware that our wizarding community relishes in their slavery." She spat.

"I didn't mean to imply-" He began as he rolled his eyes, but Hermione cut him off.

"Honestly, it's fine. I expect it now." She turned again, continuing her walk away from him.

"Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you!" He barked, affronted at her response. She stopped and looked back at him.

"I'm trying to apologise for offending you. It would be nice if you would at least offer me the chance." He said brusquely, as he walked closer to her. Hermione didn't speak, so he continued, "You _know_ I would never think less of you for being a muggleborn, so I would appreciate it if you never imposed such beliefs upon me." He said crossly, before taking a breath. "Forgive me for the way I responded." He apologised; his voice now softer.

Hermione thought he was the sort of man that would be unlikely to apologise unless he truly meant it, so whilst she still disapproved of his mindset towards the elves, she knew he must have meant no ill will. She nodded her head and thanked him for his apology, noting to herself that she must take a moment to educate him on the subject on a later date. The pair exchanged small talk over how their day had gone, before parting ways for the night.

* * *

On Monday 2nd December at 7:20pm Severus was sat in his potions classroom, waiting for Granger to arrive in the next hour. He had left dinner early as he had been unfortunate enough to sit next to Dolores, and he couldn't bare talking to her longer than absolutely necessary.

Normally he would humour her, after all it created less trouble for him. Tonight however, he just didn't have the strength to force himself through her company, listening to that nauseatingly high-pitched voice of hers – it was like nails against a chalkboard. He scrubbed at his eyes before placing his head in his hands. Things hadn't been easy as of late, the Dark Lord's temper had been particularly violent on Friday, and he had spent the weekend recovering from the aftermath of an evening of 'mild' torture for each Death Eater. He knew he had got off lighter than most – at least he had the fortune of being in the Dark Lord's favour for the time being – it didn't however spare him from two hours of sporadic exposure to the cruciatus. His hands had still trembled on occasion today from the aftershocks of the curse. He had needed to keep them firmly on his lap as much as possible, in a bid to hide the shaking.

It occurred to him that as he had some spare time, he should probably figure out which potion Granger should brew on his behalf tonight. He got up out of his seat and headed to the cabinet that held his backlog of brewed potions. Poppy had not requested any specific potions this week, so it would be a matter of seeing which had the lowest supply in his own collection.

As he repeatedly scanned the cabinet, he figured out that not only was he fully stocked of each potion appropriate for the infirmary, but he easily had enough to see the school comfortably through until after the Christmas break. _Fuck_ , he thought to himself. He wasn't proud to admit it, but he had been looking forward to Granger's company. Not in the 'I suppose my evening could be worse' way that he had been accustomed to, but in a way where he had genuinely spent the day looking forward to talking to a friend. He had spent hours trying to figure out why, reasoning that perhaps it was because she was young and innocent – her sweetness an antidote to the harrowing turbulence of being a double spy.

He thought back to their encounter a couple of weeks before, when he had caught her gifting some sort of knitwear to a house-elf – Dobby, he believed was his name. He had laughed at the time when she had told him he was her friend; the concept was so foreign. Perhaps it was the company he kept, but many of his acquaintances held contempt for their house-elf staff. He could count on his hands the number of times he had met someone who was consistently polite towards their elf, let alone _friendly._ The Malfoys certainly did not treat their elves well, they barely even knew their names. He had thought about it since, how it must seem if you looked at them objectively. He thought it said a lot about her character that she wished to befriend such peculiar creatures, even if he didn't necessarily share the desire.

He closed the cabinet and turned to lean his body against it, his head hitting the wood. He just felt so _tired_ , why couldn't he have something nice this evening? Had his weekend not been miserable enough to deserve it? _Could I ask her to stay anyway?_ He thought to himself, considering his options. _I may not know why, but I do know she needs to be here. She might be grateful for my asking._

As he pondered whether or not asking her to stay was a good or in fact terrible idea, he began to feel too warm, despite being in the dungeons. He found that he could feel a little feverous when recovering from the cruciatus, and whilst his symptoms tonight had been a vast improvement on his weekend state, he felt highly uncomfortable. He decided to remove his cloak and frock coat, leaving him wearing only a white button-down shirt and black cravat on his top half. He cast a cooling charm on himself to help moderate his temperature further and walked in the direction of his rooms to put his discarded clothing down – he still had plenty of time to kill after all. His rooms were fortunately nearby, the entrance was located in his office, which happened to be next to the Potions classroom.

* * *

Hermione was decidedly confused. The time was 8:10pm, she was in the Potions classroom as agreed, but Snape was nowhere to be seen. She would have double checked that it was indeed a Monday, if not for the fact she had just been to seen Tonks and Mad-Eye, which confirmed that it must have been.

 _I'll try his office_ , Hermione thought to herself after a moment, exiting the Potions classroom. She knocked on his office door, but there was no answer. Frowning, she knocked harder.

Finally, Snape opened the door. Hermione was taken aback to see him without his frock coat. It hadn't previously occurred to her, but she had never seen him wear just a shirt before. "I apologise Granger, evidently I lost track of time." He said, stepping aside to prompt her entrance into his office.

"No apology necessary." She smiled, waving her hand dismissively. "You had me wondering if I'd lost track of the days of the week." She laughed.

He smiled at her remark, and came to stand in front of his desk, crossing his arms in front of his chest. The door closed behind her, and once it clicked shut, Snape took his wand out and non-verbally locked it. An action that confused Hermione, as she had been expecting the two of them to head over to the Potions classroom.

"Is everything okay?" She asked, looking for some sort of explanation. Snape didn't respond straight away, instead he simply looked at her for a long moment, which only proved to unnerve Hermione further.

"I don't have any potions for you to brew today." He said, causing disappointment to swell in Hermione's chest.

"Oh." She said dumbly. "Have I done something wrong?"

Snape raised his eyebrows. "You misunderstand me. It is not that I have any aversion to you brewing for me, I just have nothing for you to brew. My stocks are filled until at least the New Year, so I'm afraid there will be no need for you to meet with me anymore, at least until January." He explained.

Hermione knew there was just under three weeks left until the Christmas break, which was a long time to be left without an alibi. It would make sneaking off more difficult, and Dumbledore would not be pleased if she was found out. She also knew there was additional scrutiny on her due to her suspected involvement in Dumbledore's Army, and she didn't need any of Umbridge's minions spying on her.

"Are you certain there's nothing I can brew for you?" She asked, wishing that her disappointment wasn't so discernible in her voice.

"Unfortunately so." He said, his gaze unwavering from her person. Hermione looked down, finding his stare unsettling.

"I see." She replied, not entirely knowing what to say.

"Do you need to stay with me?" He asked. The question caught her off-guard.

"Pardon?"

"I'm no fool Granger. I don't believe you're here _just_ because you want to do me a favour."

"I don't know-"

"-You don't need to explain yourself to me." He interrupted her. "I'm not looking for answers from you, I'm just telling you what I believe. If you like, you can spend the next two hours with me and still tell who you need to that you were here brewing under my supervision."

Hermione was shocked by the offer. She was surprised that he knew more about her situation than he should, although fortunately it appeared as if he didn't know the full truth. He didn't need to offer, he didn't gain anything from only spending time with her, yet he still wanted to help. He wasn't even bargaining with her in exchange for answers.

"What would we do?" She asked. Hermione took this moment to take in how tired he looked today – he looked rough. There were dark circles under his eyes, his hair was flat to his head on the verge of turning greasy, and his expression looked pained as he scratched at his evening stubble.

"We could just talk. I may even be able to find a book for you to borrow from my collection." He offered.

"You would let me borrow one of your books?" Hermione asked with a smile, feeling excited at the prospect – it was a proposal she had not expected. He returned her smile, and it relaxed his features.

"Follow me." He said as he straightened up and walked towards a door in the corner of his office. Hermione obeyed. As she came to stand behind him, he turned to her, his eyes piercing into hers. "You must not tell anyone about this. Not your friends, not another teacher. This stays between you and me."

It took Hermione a second to answer, she was so taken by the forceful look in his dark eyes. Since gaining confidence in her occlumency skills she had allowed herself to resume maintaining eye contact with people, for which she was grateful for. She didn't know why, but she had been finding it increasingly difficult to tear her gaze from his. He was an intense man, and his eyes were no exception.

"Of course, you can trust me." She assured him, all the while wondering what exactly she was promising. Snape waved his wand and Hermione heard the door unlock. He held it open for her and beckoned her to step inside.

"As you can see, these are my rooms." He explained.

Hermione took in her surroundings. The wall furthest from her had a fireplace burning, and in the centre of the room there were two brown, leather chesterfield sofas with a coffee table separating them. A slightly weathered, deep green rug lay underneath. Off to the right-hand side there was a small, circular walnut dining table with two matching dining chairs. This was next to what appeared to be an almost kitchen of sorts. Adjacent to the kitchen was another door, which was closed. Looking over to the left-hand side of the room, there was a long bookcase which took up almost the entire wall. At the end of the bookcase there was a second door, which was left ajar. Hermione approached the tall bookcase, in awe of its size.

"May I have a look?" She asked, turning to face him. He gave his consent with a short nod of his head.

"Let me know if you wish to pick one up, not all of those are very… friendly." He said sombrely.

"The dark arts?" Hermione asked. Again, Snape nodded. "There were quite a few of those books back at Sirius' house. Grisly texts, but it's hard to put them down." She told him.

"I didn't realise you had read any such books?" He asked, furrowing his brow.

"I was looking for something to pass the time over the summer when I was staying with Sirius. Apparently, the Black family wasn't one for light-hearted texts." She explained.

"What did you think of them?"

"I only read three. I remember one was called 'Collusion and Conniving Curses' – that had a nasty spell about how to quite literally get someone's blood boiling. The idea was to use it as a torture mechanism when interrogating someone, and it gave specific advice on how to make the sensation as painful as possible whilst ensuring you did not actually kill the victim. All three books were filled with horror, yet I couldn't put them down. I wanted to stop reading, but I suppose my curiosity wouldn't let me look away." She said, recalling the memory.

"Yes, they have that effect." He replied wistfully.

"You have so many books, I don't really know where to begin looking." She laughed.

"These are only the ones I keep here; I have more at my home." He told her.

"That's impressive!" She told him, feeling envious of his collection.

"You don't need to worry about picking something now." He said, raking his hand through his long hair. "I could make you a cup of tea?" He offered. Hermione thought that he looked uncomfortable, but she wasn't sure why. Perhaps he was uneasy about inviting her in.

"That would be lovely, thank you."

Snape walked over to the kitchenette and took out two mugs from a nearby cupboard and began preparing them both a cup of tea. Hermione took a seat on one of the sofas and waited. In the meantime, she thought about how surreal her current situation was – _Snape_ had invited her into his rooms.

She had felt increasingly more comfortable around him with each week that passed, and at times she very much felt as if she were talking to a friend. Mondays and Thursdays had become the highlight of her week, despite both days being so long. Between seeing Mad-Eye and Tonks, and then spending a couple of hours with Snape she managed to get some reprieve of pretending to be a 16-year-old girl, even if only for a short while. Hermione had physically turned 18 a week ago, now bringing her to being two years ahead of her peers. She found it strange having her biological age out of sync with her birth certificate; becoming an adult in both the muggle and wizarding world had felt underwhelming, despite the societal significance placed upon it. She suspected this was a consequence of it being a secret, and that birthdays didn't really feel special if no one was there to celebrate it with you. Feeling tears begin to sting at her eyes at the thought, she quickly turned her attention back to Snape – it would not do to cry in front of him.

Snape was standing near the two cups of tea, seemingly waiting for them to brew. His back was to her, and so she could not make out his facial expression. She did however notice that his hand was trembling. _Odd,_ she thought to herself.

A short while later he came over to her, levitating the two cups of tea instead of carrying them. He sat on the opposite sofa and summoned a jar of sugar and a small jug of milk.

"Help yourself." He said.

Hermione leant forward and altered her tea to her taste, adding a dash of milk and two spoonsful of sugar. "Why did you invite me here? Why not your classroom?" She asked after a pause.

He blinked at her, clearly not expecting the question. Hermione noticed just how prominent the dark circles under his eyes were, and thought they accentuated his protuberant nose. "Does it really matter where we sit? I think it's at least more comfortable in here. After all, you're no stranger to lying about your whereabouts, what difference does it make to you?" He drawled, sounding a touch defensive.

Hermione felt her pulse quicken. _How much does he know?_ She thought to herself. "I don't know what you mean." She said a little too quickly.

"Don't play dumb Granger, you're a bad liar." He said bluntly. "I know you and your friends are meeting together, against the wishes of Umbridge. We've already been over this; it doesn't matter that you won't admit it."

The penny dropped and Hermione realised that he was talking about Dumbledore's Army – not her sneaking out to see Mad-Eye and Tonks. Her relief must have shown on her face, as Snape narrowed his eyes at her.

Hermione had been contemplating confessing to him about the D.A. but had been unsure whether it would be wise. Just because he sometimes felt like a friend, certainly did not make him one – especially as a Slytherin. She knew that he must trust her though, if he had invited her into his rooms. Invasion of privacy aside, she understood that he could get into a lot of trouble if anyone knew she was here. It would be misinterpreted as something sordid, and those accusations could ruin the pair of them. For whatever reason, she found herself too drawn to his company to act on that information and distance herself from this situation. She wanted to be here. If they had the mutual trust to spend time together like this, then she had to be able to trust him with the D.A.

"You're right. I'm sorry." She started. "My friends and I, we're practising defensive spells outside of lessons." She said swallowing heavily, feeling nervous about divulging her secret – she knew Harry and Ron would be furious if they knew she was sharing this with the man in front of her.

"I suspected that would be the nature of your meetings, going from the conversation I had with you at the start of the year." He said. "Are you using what I taught you last year?"

"To an extent, our group is of varied ages and we focus on group teaching, so it's been challenging getting the balance of difficulty correct." Hermione answered.

She started explaining to him the structure of Dumbledore's Army, how not each member was in Gryffindor, who exactly was in the group, and what the overall aim was. The pair of them spoke in detail about the months of practise they had already fitted in, and how the group was responding to the challenges Umbridge continuously threw their way. They talked until 9:45pm, when Hermione noticed the time and prompted Snape to help her pick out a book. She didn't leave his rooms until 10:45pm, holding two books in hand about defensive and attacking spells. Both were Snape's recommendation to help her better the teaching in the D.A.

* * *

It was 9:20pm on Monday 16th December and it had been two weeks since Severus had first invited Granger into his personal rooms. Each Monday and Thursday since she had spent the evening his rooms, leaving far later than she ought to. He wasn't quite sure what was possessing him to continuously make a sequence of such poor decisions, but he couldn't quite help himself. With Albus, the Dark Lord, and now Dolores he felt like he _needed_ some sort of break from it all. He knew that such rest should _absolutely not_ come in the form of a friendship with Hermione fucking Granger, but here he was. On the upside she was at least opening up to him, and so he could reason with himself that as inappropriate as his conduct was, he was working towards his end goal of deciphering what Albus' intentions were with Granger.

An endeavour that had initially been sparked from curiosity and resentment from being kept out of the loop, now felt like it was being driven by looking after her interests. He had witnessed people get chewed up by the old man, all in his conquest for the 'greater good'. Severus had a great deal of respect and love for the man that had become a father-like figure for him over the years, but that did not mean he was immune to seeing the destruction he could leave in his wake. Albus struggled to see shades of grey. If something was deemed _right_ by his own moral compass, then it absolutely must be achieved. If it was _wrong,_ then it decidedly must be stopped. He didn't want Granger being dragged into some drawn out errand that would ultimately leave her worse off. He _knew_ Gryffindors, and he _knew_ that with the right sales pitch about the 'greater good' she would run off blindly to sacrifice herself. So, he reasoned that the circumstances surrounding her were unique enough to justify this friendship he was building with her, and if that familiarity healed something within him if only for a few hours twice a week, then was that so awful?

Severus covered two tea bags with boiling water and waited for the tea to brew. He looked over fondly at Granger who was sat kneeling by his bookcase looking through the great deal of tomes that sat there. Her bright eyes forever inquisitive by the presentation of knowledge before her. He wished more people were like her, that more people shared an appreciation of education and bettering oneself. In this aspect, she reminded him of his younger self.

"What's this one about?" She asked him, gesturing to one of the books. Severus walked over to her to see which one she meant.

"'Aberrant Incantations for Inquisitive Minds'," He said, reading the title of the book aloud. "I don't think that's something you need to be reading. Don't touch it." He told her matter-of-factly.

Granger stood up and turned to face him. "Why let me look at them if you won't let me read them?" She asked petulantly.

He quirked his brow, amused by her behaviour. "You know full well I allow you to read some of them."

"You're very selective." She answered sulkily, before walking over to the kitchenette. She cast a spell to remove the teabags in their drinks and picked both mugs up to bring them to the coffee table.

"You've already told me you don't care for dark magic, why does this matter?"

"You're not refusing the book to me because you don't think it will be to my taste, you're doing it because you don't think I'm competent. You don't believe me to be careful enough." She said, wrinkling her nose in disapproval.

"Granger you're a child." He told her. Granger's head snapped up at his comment, and she glared at him. "Dark magic isn't something to mess around with, it's _not_ a recreational activity. Take that advice from someone who has had to learn the hard way." He said firmly.

"I'm not some naïve, silly girl. I'm fully aware of the dangers of practising dark magic, I have no intention of implementing it. I don't however understand why I should be refused an opportunity to broaden my knowledge on the subject. How can I ever be expected to combat such magic if I have no grounding in it?" She asked, her temper flaring.

"You can learn about many ways to thwart dark magic without reading up on each and every spell! You do _not_ need to read that book, and I would be behaving carelessly if I allowed you to." He told her, feeling his own temper begin to rise. "Don't question me."

Granger barked a mirthless laugh. "Of course." She said, throwing herself gracelessly onto the sofa furthest from him. She picked up her cup of tea and looked towards the fireplace in his rooms, seething.

"I have your best intentions in mind Granger when I tell you this." He said, willing his own temper to cool. He didn't wish to fight with the girl, these evenings were meant to be calming.

Her nostrils flared. "I can see where you and Dumbledore get along so well." She said under her breath, no doubt expecting him to not hear her.

"What was that?" He asked, despite knowing full well what she had said.

"Nothing." She said dismissively.

Severus took a seat on the opposite sofa to her and picked up his own cup of tea.

"You mentioned Dumbledore." He said. _This could be it,_ he thought to himself. _She might open up._

"I told you it was nothing. I don't want to talk about it." She snapped.

"You shouldn't argue with me when I'm only trying to help you." He said sternly. "Does Dumbledore have anything to do with you needing to be here?" He asked her.

"Why do you think I _need_ to be here?" She retorted.

"Because I can't fathom why on else you would choose my company over that of your friends."

"You told me that you would allow me to read your books, that's why I'm here. You have books in your collection that even the restricted section doesn't have catalogued."

"I won't ask why you're so familiar with the contents of the restricted section." He said through gritted teeth. "I don't recall you disputing my theory of there being an ulterior reason behind you being here when I first invited you into my rooms."

"If you're so adamant I'm up to something, why aren't you talking to Dumbledore about it?" She asked.

"He's not in front of me right now." He countered.

"Perhaps I shouldn't be either." She told him, placing her mug down on the coffee table and standing up. She walked over to the bookcase where her bag had been discarded earlier and picked up her belongings.

Severus stood up from his seat and strode towards her. "Have I not proven to you that you can trust me? What could you be possibly doing that the mere mention of it has you storming out of here!" He barked at her. "I helped you with your 'army'! I kept that secret safe, _and_ I've compromised myself by allowing you to spend your evenings here."

Granger blinked at him in disbelief. "We could quite easily spend our evenings in your office, you're the one that chose your bloody living room. We've _both_ compromised ourselves by spending time together here."

Severus' nostrils flared angrily; but he knew she was right. The second time she came to his rooms they had both agreed that she would tell her friends that he was giving her one-to-one tuition on potion making theory, as they could justify his office being a more appropriate location for this than his classroom. This was important as if anyone came looking for her, they would easily be able to reach his office from his rooms and make it appear as if she had been there the entire time.

"Watch your tongue Granger." He warned. "I give you a lot of leverage here, but I still require your respect."

"You require my courtesy, but I'm undeserving of yours? If you held any regard for me, you would respect my privacy."

"So, you admit it then? You _are_ up to something." He sneered.

"I think we're done here, Professor." Granger spat, before turning on her heels and heading towards the door. She tried it, but it was locked – his wards were up to prevent anyone from walking in on them.

Severus stormed over to the door, unlocked it and held it open for her. With his free hand he roughly grabbed her arm as she walked past him. "Remember, I know Dumbledore better than you. I know this war better than you. You may choose not to believe me, but I am your ally. You're a teenager who does not know what she's getting herself into." He told her sternly before removing his grip.

Granger simply stared at him for a moment before walking to leave through his office door. _Foolish girl,_ Severus thought to himself angrily as he watched her retreating form.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I have one more chapter that has already been typed out, so the updates will slow down soon! Thank you to everyone who's reviewing the story, bookmarking, subscribing, and leaving kudos - helps me to know I'm not doing a terrible job! I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

It was Saturday 11th January and Hermione was sat in the drawing room in Grimmauld Place. She had been staying here for the entirety of the Christmas break for her safety, much to the disappointment of her parents. With the help of Tonks however, she had managed to successfully sneak out on Christmas Eve to spend a few days with them.

Tonks had kept everyone entertained with her metamorphmagus abilities whilst Hermione locked herself in the bathroom and apparated away to her parents' house. She stayed there to Boxing Day. Once she left their house she travelled back in time, and apparated back to the bathroom at Grimmauld Place. She had only appeared to have been gone for 10 minutes or so once she had re-joined the throng of people in the kitchen. She realised that sneaking out was a tad reckless – she was after all, staying at headquarters for a reason – but she had missed her parents. The compromise of spending a few days over Christmas with them had also eased their upset over her spending the rest of the break with her friends.

In the drawing room with her was Harry, Ron, Ginny, and the twins. Harry and Ron were playing wizarding chess as Fred and George watched on, poking fun at both younger boys' tactics throughout. Hermione was mostly tuning it out, instead paying attention to her conversation with Ginny, who was telling her about her relationship with Michael Corner and how lucky she felt to be with someone who was so focussed on her. Hermione was happy that her friend had found happiness with Michael, and that she had stopped pining over Harry. It had been painful to see Ginny repeatedly hurt by Harry giving other girls his attention, not to mention a little awkward because she couldn't just call her best friend an arse for not noticing how lovely Ginny was. It was especially frustrating as Hermione believed that the pair would make a good couple, if Harry would only notice what was in front of him. Things had fortunately seemed to work out for the best though as Ginny was now happily with Michael, and Harry was making progress with Cho.

There was a knock on the drawing room door and Mrs. Weasley popped her head through. "Harry and Hermione dears, you're needed in the kitchen." She said with a warm smile. Hermione shared a confused look with Harry – both of them clearly not expecting to be summoned.

As they were walking down the stairs Harry turned to Hermione. "Don't suppose you know what this is about?" He asked, adjusting his glasses on his face.

"Not a clue." Hermione answered with a shrug.

When they walked through the large kitchen door, they saw Sirius and Snape sitting down by the kitchen table, two chairs distance between them and a letter in front of them.

"Sit down." Snape ordered the pair of them.

"Don't talk to them like that Snivellus." Sirius snapped at him.

"I'm asking them to sit." Snape said through gritted teeth, whipping his head round to look at him. "I realise life must be a little slow for you, but there's no need to whip out your Gryffindor dramatics to liven up the evening."

Harry and Hermione had not yet moved from their spot barely beyond the doorway and exchanged a nervous glance with each other.

"It's really no issue Sirius-" Hermione started as she walked closer to the table, Harry following close behind her.

"-No, he's not allowed to give either of you orders! I will settle things between us Snivellus if you so much as think about abusing your position with these lessons-" Sirius said, cutting Hermione off.

"-You will 'settle things', will you?" Snape barked a laugh. "Forever the comedian Black. You wouldn't stand a chance against me. Incredible really, that sitting on your arse for 14 years doing nothing of value has had no effect on dampening that pompous ego of yours." He spat.

Sirius stood abruptly, with Snape quickly following suit. "Strong words for a traitorous bastard like yourself Snape. I personally wouldn't define cosying up to You-Know-Who as you and your Death Eater buddies circle jerk each other as doing something of _value_." Sirius shot back venomously.

"I appreciate there's a lot that goes over your inflated head Black, so I'll give you some leniency. It must be especially confusing watching others have a purpose when you know full well there's _nothing_ you're capable of offering yourself." Snape snarled, taking a step closer to Sirius.

"Stop arguing!" Harry shouted at them, but neither man paid any attention.

"You might have the others fooled Snape, but I _know_ you're not to be trusted. Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater." Sirius told him, narrowing the gap between them to square up to the taller man. Harry and Hermione looked warily at one another, evidently both concerned that this was getting out of hand.

Sirius then pushed Snape, although the impact didn't seem to have any effect on him. In a flash Snape drew out his wand and had it pointed at the man's neck, his other hand holding him roughly by the collar. Harry and Hermione both rushed round to the other side of the kitchen table.

"What, scared if you fought me like a real man you'd lose?" Sirius goaded, although there was concern present in his voice.

Snape then vanished his own wand and went to lunge to punch Sirius just as Harry and Hermione reached the pair. Harry wedged himself between them and roughly shoved Sirius back, giving Hermione room to stand in front of Snape and put her hands on his chest to prompt him to stop charging forward and attacking Sirius. Snape's furious eyes locked with hers.

"Both of you need to calm down. Now." Hermione shouted, voice stern as if she were telling off two children.

"Exactly what Hermione said." Harry said loudly, backing his friend up.

It was at this moment that the Weasley family walked through the doors, with Arthur Weasley in tow. Hermione had been told that he would be released from hospital today; he must have arrived at headquarters at some point during the argument. The Weasleys – who had been talking amongst themselves as they were opening the door – were now in stunned silence staring at the scene before them.

"Potter, you are to see me every Monday evening at 8pm for occlumency lessons as soon as the term begins. You will tell others you are studying remedial potions with me to hide the nature of these lessons. Granger, you will no longer be brewing for me on Mondays. Understood?" Snape snarled at the pair of them, before turning on his heel to leave, not looking to wait around for an answer.

"I have a couple of questions actually. If you could spare a moment." Hermione said irritably. This was the first time she had seen Snape in more than just passing since their argument in his rooms before Christmas, and so far it had been spent breaking up some childish spat with Sirius. Challenging him in front of a room full of people possibly wasn't the wisest idea when he was in a foul mood, but she didn't think it was fair that he could talk to her like that and then walk off.

Snape stopped in his tracks and quirked his brow at her. "By all means." He said through gritted teeth.

Hermione swallowed thickly feeling uncomfortable with the level of attention that was on her. "I believe the drawing room is empty. I don't think we need such a large audience." She said. Snape nodded curtly and stepped outside the room.

"I'm glad you're feeling better Mr. Weasley." Hermione said politely as she walked past the bewildered looking Weasley family.

Once she had left the kitchen she walked straight in the direction of the drawing room, not once daring to look at Snape, but feeling reassured by the sound of his footsteps not far behind her. Once inside the room Snape managed to close the door behind the pair of them faster than she was able to turn to face him.

"What are your questions?" He asked, tone clipped.

"I guess the first thing I wanted to say wasn't so much of a question, but an apology." Hermione started, feeling unsure of herself now that her annoyance had somewhat faded.

Snape cast a spell that Hermione was unfamiliar with and took a step closer to her. "Muffliato is a charm that will make it difficult for anyone other than us to hear what we're saying." He explained, acknowledging her look of confusion. "Have you changed your mind about talking to me?" He asked.

"No." Hermione answered quickly. "I can't. I'm sorry." She said firmly. "I do regret the way in which I left your company before the Christmas break, though. I felt… overwhelmed, and I didn't handle it very well." She tried to explain. The fact that he even suspected she was working with Dumbledore on a project was far more than he was ever meant to know. Talking to him about the D.A. was one thing but explaining that she had been time travelling from the age of 13 was another entirely.

"I see." He said bluntly, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"I was also wondering if it would be at all possible for me to brew for you on a day that isn't a Thursday." Hermione asked, wincing. She felt apprehensive of his response.

"I had no idea your schedule was so busy." He sneered.

"Well, I was going to ask if I could drop the Thursday and just do the Monday, but you've already informed me that's not going to work." Hermione said.

"I didn't elect to spend my evenings with _Potter._ That was our beloved Headmaster's decision." He said, spitting her friend's name as if it were a slur.

"I understand if you can't help me, I just thought it was worth at least asking." Hermione said with resignation.

Her occlumency lessons with Tonks had ended before Christmas break with Hermione successfully learning how to block someone from reading her surface thoughts. She certainly had a long way to go with the skill of occlumency, but she had mastered the basics Dumbledore had wanted her to. Consequently, she now only needed to meet with Tonks once per week. She had pulled Hermione aside a week ago to tell her that she was pretty flexible with when she could meet her to discuss Order meetings going forward, but that she had been assigned to help train apprentice aurors on Thursday evenings, so she could no longer do this particular day. Hermione had expected this to be a non-issue, up until of course Snape announced that he would be spending his Monday evenings with Harry now.

"I didn't say that I could not help you." He sighed. "Is there a particular day that would benefit you?"

Hermione shook her head. "I do my prefect rounds on Wednesdays and Fridays, but I can still fit brewing in before that."

"We'll say Tuesday then."

"Thank you." Hermione said earnestly.

"If you ever change your mind Granger, about talking to someone, you know where to find me. Remember what I told you as you left my rooms before Christmas."

Hermione nodded, feeling too sheepish to hold his eye contact. "Will you be staying for dinner? Mr Weasley has just been released from hospital, I think other Order members have been invited." Hermione asked, changing the subject.

"I have no intention to spend my time in the same room as Black for any longer than absolutely necessary." He said.

"You shouldn't let him get to you… I think he just gets agitated because he's indoors all day." Hermione said, trying to explain Sirius' behaviour.

"He doesn't 'get to me' as you put it." Snape said defensively.

Hermione scoffed. "You were about to hit him! If it weren't for Harry and I-"

"-He might have learned a valuable lesson about his own ineptitude." He interrupted her.

Hermione shook her head, rolling her eyes. "Forget I said anything."

The two said their goodbyes to each other, and Hermione headed back down to the kitchen.

* * *

On Tuesday January 21st at 8:45pm Hermione was in the Potions classroom with Snape brewing Wound-Cleaning Potion. It was a potion that wasn't taught until her sixth year, but she had a book with the instructions in front of her, and of course Snape's help if she came unstuck.

As was customary, he sat opposite her on the same workbench, working through a stack of students' homework. Hermione snuck glances at him as she brewed, finding amusement in how horrified he was at some of the work in front of him.

"What's wrong with that one?" She asked as she watched him scrawl no doubt scathing comments on the sheet of parchment. The disgust on his face made it clear to her that this specific piece of work was particularly bad.

"In two sides of parchment discussing Skele-Gro and its application, Henrietta Gamp has decided to utilise a third of that space to talk about bezoars." He said incredulously. "Clearly I waste my time teaching these dunderheads. You only need a _basic_ grounding in potion-making to understand that a common poison antidote has no relation to a potion designed to rebuild bones!" He exclaimed.

"Henrietta Gamp… she's a fourth year Hufflepuff right?" Hermione asked, trying to recall the girl. "Bit ditsy?"

"That's the one." He confirmed.

"Could I read it?" She asked. She couldn't do any further work on her Wound-Cleaning Potion for another 20 minutes, and she was curious to see the disastrous essay for herself.

"By all means, help yourself." Snape said, pushing the piece of parchment towards her. "Thank Merlin that's the last piece of work I need to mark tonight." He said shaking his head.

Hermione scanned the homework. Snape wasn't exaggerating, it was really off base with the potion theory. Hermione's eyebrows shot up when she got to the comment that he had left the poor girl. "You're not one to hold back are you? 'I would sooner trust a dung beetle to produce a batch of Skele-Gro than hand the responsibility over to you. You will see me after class to discuss this abysmal excuse of an essay.'" Hermione said, reading his comment aloud.

"Would you trust her over a dung beetle?" He deadpanned.

"You're terrible." Hermione laughed; Snape smirked at her as he tidied away the stack of parchments he had been marking.

He then nonverbally summoned a cauldron in front of him, along with equipment to prepare potion ingredients.

"You're brewing too?" Hermione asked him.

"Yes, Dol-Umbridge has asked me to prepare her something." He said, slipping up and nearly calling the woman by her first name.

Hermione's eyebrows rose. "On a first name basis then." She remarked with a smirk.

Snape rolled his eyes. "I'm on a first name basis with the entire teaching faculty."

"Not brewing them all bespoke potions though, are you?" Hermione said, teasing him. She knew that he was no fan of the stocky, toad-like woman.

"I wouldn't be brewing for her at all if you and your friends abided by the rules." He told her.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, confused.

"She's asked me to brew veritaserum, to aid her interrogations."

"That's strictly prohibited!" Hermione cried.

"I'm not _actually_ brewing her veritaserum, Granger. I'm brewing a fake, it'll mostly be comprised of just water."

"That doesn't make her intentions any less abhorrent, Snape." She said, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

"No. It doesn't." He said sombrely.

The two continued to brew opposite one another for a further 30 minutes, until it was 9:45pm. The conversation had changed to a discussion on what the D.A. were learning together for the next few weeks. Snape had been surprised to learn they were progressing to producing a patronus charm, especially considering the age of some of the children in her group.

"Oh! I've been meaning to remember; I've got the book I borrowed from you before Christmas with me." Hermione said as she finished up bottling her potion.

"Oh yes, I'd forgotten about that myself." Snape said, scratching at his jaw.

Hermione reached into her bag and placed the borrowed book on the table, choosing not to hand it to Snape as he was still brewing.

"You may continue to borrow from my collection if you wish. It'll be a little late tonight by the time I'm finished with this," He said, gesturing his head towards his potion. "But you're welcome to come to my office after dinner tomorrow to pick something out."

"I'd like that." Hermione said, smiling at him. Snape returned the smile, his face softening as his eyes crinkled.

* * *

On Thursday 13th February at 9:45pm Hermione was sat in Snape's living room looking through a book that he had lent her on charms. She was curled up in the corner of one of his chesterfield sofas, drinking a cup of earl grey that he had made for her.

In the last three weeks Hermione had come to Snape's rooms four times, all of which were on days that she was not scheduled to brew potions for him.

"What do you think of it?" He asked her. He was sat on the opposite sofa in the corner furthest away from her. His frock coat and cravat had been removed, and the sleeves on his white shirt had been rolled up, the snakehead on his dark mark just about visible.

"I'm enjoying it so far. I like how it doesn't just give you the spell, but it also gives you some insight into the history behind each incantation." Hermione smiled.

"Yes, I thought you would like that." He said.

After a short while Hermione looked back over at Snape. "How are Harry's occlumency lessons going?" She asked. It was the first time she had brought the subject up with him. She noted that each week Harry came back from the sessions feeling increasingly angrier, rarely wishing to talk about what happened.

"About as disastrous as I expected. Your friend has no hold on his emotions. So far the lessons prove to be futile." He told her bluntly.

"Surely he's showing some sort of progress?" She asked.

"No."

Hermione sighed. Snape was always a little tricky when discussing Harry. She never really understood why his dislike for her friend was so intense, but she knew the feeling was most definitely returned by Harry.

"Why do you think Dumbledore chose you to teach Harry? You're not exactly shy about your dislike for him." Hermione asked.

"I imagine Granger it's because I'm a master legilimens and occlumens, and he's decided that he was too busy to teach the boy himself." He drawled.

"Wait – you're a _master_ legilimens and occlumens?" Hermione queried as she sat up straighter, wondering if she had heard him correctly. _If he's accomplished in both, why was I sneaking out to get Tonks to teach me?_ She thought to herself bitterly.

"You know full well the role I play for the Order. Use your head, I'd be a poor spy if I couldn't keep a handle on my thoughts and emotions." He sneered.

Hermione tried to suppress her frustration, but evidently struggled to keep the annoyance off her face as Snape quickly picked up on it. "What's the matter with you?" He asked, looking her up and down.

"Nothing. Would you like another cup of tea?" She asked as she stood up, tone clipped.

"Sure." He said as he eyed her apprehensively.

Hermione took his mug from him and walked over to the kitchenette. She started to prepare the drinks, roughly opening and closing cupboards as she did so. Snape stood up from his seat and walked over towards her.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" She asked brusquely, noticing him standing behind her.

"Like what?"

"Like you're trying to… I don't know, measure me up?" She asked.

"Perhaps it's because I'm trying to figure out why you're suddenly annoyed at me." He said.

"I'm not annoyed at you." She said firmly. She leaned her back against the kitchen counter as she waited for the teas to brew, now facing him.

"Then what?" He asked quietly, as if posing the question to himself rather than her. He walked closer to her, leaving only a foot of space between them. "I wonder." He said to himself, as he lifted her chin with his thumb to make eye contact with her. Before Hermione had a chance to voice her confusion, he spoke. "Legilimens."

Hermione had gotten enough practice through her time with Tonks to swiftly have a wall in place to keep him away from reading her surface thoughts. She felt his mind gently nudge against her barrier, testing the strength. She pushed back against him to prompt him to leave her mind.

"You can't just enter my mind without permission." She said, her voice wavering as he withdrew.

"You act as if I tried to read your thoughts." He said softly, letting go of her chin and looking at her curiously. If he truly was a master legilimens, then she knew that if he had wanted to, he could have torn down her wall. It was a mechanism designed to defend against a basic breach, not for an attack from someone accomplished in the art. "Who taught you?" He asked.

"I taught myself." She lied.

"You can't." He said adamantly, taking a step away from her. "When did you learn?"

Hermione sighed, turning around to remove the tea bags that had now been steeping for a little too long in their mugs.

"You won't tell me, will you?" He asked, taking her silence as an answer.

"I can't." She said sadly.

"It was never mentioned to you that I could have taught you?" He asked.

She shook her head. "Can we talk about something else?" She asked, handing his cup of tea to him. He nodded and the pair walked back over to the sofas.

Hermione picked up the charms book again and attempted to continue reading, getting comfortable by tucking her legs underneath her. She tried her best to quell the sick, anxious feeling in her gut that creeped up every time she thought about her time travel.

A short while later Hermione closed her book and sat up straight. It was too difficult to focus on reading when she felt like this. "I think I'm going to head back to my dormitory." She announced.

She watched Snape turn his head to look at the clock – It was 10:15, a good deal earlier than she normally left his quarters.

"Of course. Are you taking the book with you?" He asked her.

"No, not this time."

"You don't wish to pick another out?"

"I think I need to just leave." Hermione told him as she stood, wishing she sounded firmer.

"I see." He said simply, standing up himself.

Hermione went to pick up her bag that was next to the sofa, but hesitated. "Can I ask you something?" Snape nodded his consent. "Why do you let me come here?"

He looked at her for a long moment, his face carefully blank. "Why do you come?" He countered, deflecting her question.

Previously when he had asked this question she had lied and told him it was simply his impressive library that drew her in, but it was only half of the truth. "It feels comfortable here. There's something about being here that just feels… grounding? It's difficult to articulate, certainly because I'm not allowed to explain to you why that might be." She smiled sadly. "Then again, I'm not really allowed to be here, to be this friendly with you, and yet I am."

"No, we shouldn't be this familiar with each other." He agreed, his expression remaining unreadable.

Hermione shook her head, feeling foolish for sharing with him. "As I said, I should leave."

"Wait." He said. There was a long pause as he seemed to debate whether or not he should continue. "I became friendlier with you because I think you're caught up in something you shouldn't be, and I hoped if I was kinder, then you would feel more comfortable with me – that you might confide in me." He explained, swallowing hard before continuing, "I allow you here, in my rooms, because I enjoy your company. I spend much of my time appeasing people I want _nothing_ to do with, people who remind me of the bad decisions I made as a young adult. Selfishly, I like having you here because you break that up for me, because you're the antithesis of those people."

"The Death Eaters you mean?" Hermione asked. Snape nodded. She glanced at his dark mark that was slightly exposed. "Would you mind, if I saw it?" She questioned softly.

Snape held his arm out to her. Taking this as permission she walked over to him. Tentatively, she held his forearm with her left hand, as she carefully pushed his rolled-up shirtsleeve up further to expose the entirety of the mark. It looked as if it were a slightly faded, red muggle tattoo. Utterly inconspicuous if one did not know the meaning behind it.

"I always thought they were black." She remarked, looking up at him.

"Only when I'm being summoned." He said. She let go of his arm and took a step back. He adjusted his shirt sleeve.

Hermione looked over at the clock; it now read 10:30pm. "I really should be leaving." She told him.

"I understand."

Picking up her belongings, she turned to face him. "Thank you, for answering my question." He nodded; his face blank once again.

The two of them said good night to each other, and agreed for her to come back Sunday evening, continuing their arrangement.

As Hermione left his rooms and walked back towards her dormitory she reflected on her evening with Snape. Dumbledore had told her not to trust him because of his precarious position as a spy – if he was found out, she would be ruined with him. Something within her gut told her though that perhaps Dumbledore was the one she should be treating with caution, not the man who had grown to be her friend.


	13. Chapter 13

It was Saturday 6th April and Hermione was sat on her bed, clutching a letter from Tonks. It had been two days since Umbridge had taken over Dumbledore's position and had become Headmistress following the discovery of Dumbledore's Army.

She had received a letter that morning at breakfast. As she did not recognise the handwriting on the front of the envelope she had decided it would be better to open it in private. It was very much to the point and explained to Hermione that it would be unwise to continue their meetings with how things currently were at Hogwarts. She knew Tonks well enough to know that the letter was brief as a precautionary measure; if it had been intercepted the reader would have struggled to understand the meaning behind it.

There would now be more scrutiny on her due to her involvement with the D.A., and Umbridge unfortunately now had the means to keep an eye on her with ease. An 'Inquisitorial Squad' had been organised – a group of Slytherins happily willing to suck up to her in exchange for a small slice of power. It would only take one of them to spot her sneaking out and she could be expelled.

Hermione couldn't help but feel doleful at losing the D.A. and her connection to the Order in one fell swoop, but there was little that could be done now. Using her magic, she lit the letter on fire, watching it burn until the seared edges almost reached her fingertips.

* * *

On Tuesday 9th April at 7:55pm Hermione was heading to the Potions classroom to brew. She was hoping that she would be able to get some answers from Snape about why Harry's occlumency lessons had been cancelled last night, as she certainly wasn't getting anything from Harry himself. He had spent the day being very withdrawn, and no matter what Ron or herself would say to him, he just dismissed them. Something must have happened, something more significant than their usual bickering.

She knocked on the door to the classroom before letting herself in. "Good evening." Hermione said cheerily to Snape, who was sat behind his desk.

"You will be brewing Calming Draught tonight, Granger." He barked, not looking up from his work. His voice was cold as if he were teaching a lesson; he never spoke to her like that anymore when it was just the two of them.

Hermione quietly got together her equipment and ingredients and began the brewing process for the potion. Snape was still sat behind his desk, seemingly having no intention of moving. Ever since her birthday he had always sat opposite her, so this was strange – it felt wrong. Hermione had a sickly feeling in her gut, knowing that his behaviour must somehow be connected to Harry. _What on earth happened last night?_ She wondered to herself.

"You're not sitting with me tonight then?" Hermione asked, addressing the elephant in the room.

"If you need my assistance with a simple fourth-year potion Granger then perhaps we need to reconsider this arrangement." He spat acidly.

Hermione was taken aback by his response, not expecting his temper to flare at all, let alone so abruptly. It was hurtful to see him talk to her like this. She decided it would be better for the moment to just moil through brewing the Calming Draught and try and approach him later. She quickly worked her way through each step, only coming to a stop when the potion needed 20 minutes of rest to mature. This potion was always a quick one to brew, usually taking Hermione less than an hour to complete it. She couldn't help but be cynical and believe that this was why he had selected this specific potion tonight, so she could be out the door quickly.

She perched herself on a nearby chair to wait. Absentmindedly she was playing with one of her long curls, looking round the room. After a moment her eyes landed on Snape, his dark, angry eyes looking directly at her.

Hermione swallowed nervously. "Have I done something to offend you?" She asked, feeling too uncomfortable to remain in silence for any longer.

"What has Potter told you?" He demanded, flicking his wand to lock the door of the classroom.

"He said that his occlumency lessons with you had been cancelled, but he didn't tell us why-"

"You lie!" He spat, cutting off the end of her sentence and slamming his hand against the wood of his desk – hard. He stood up and strode towards her, his long legs making quick work of the distance.

Hermione rapidly stood up herself. "Why would I lie about that?" She asked incredulously.

"Did you have a good laugh?" He asked, his voice dripping in disdain as he backed her against the workbench. His right hand tightly gripped the edge of the table next to her, boxing her in.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" She insisted. "Harry came back to the common room last night upset, and he wouldn't tell us anything except to say that he would no longer be practising occlumency with you! He's barely spoken to either Ron or myself today, I had been hoping you would be the one to clarify what happened last night." She explained.

"You expect me to believe that _Potter_ would have the graciousness to keep his mouth shut? You're just as arrogant as he – lying straight to my face. Remarkable how I've never seen it before." He said, his voice hard as he looked her up and down.

"You said yourself that I'm a terrible liar, you would know if I was lying to you." Hermione pleaded, willing for him to listen to her.

He stood even closer to her, his chest now touching her own. His left hand roughly gripped her jaw. "I allow you into my _life_ , I risk my position to _help_ you, and _this_ is how you show your gratitude." His anger radiated from him.

Hermione reached up to touch his left hand. "You're hurting me." She told him, looking into his obsidian eyes. He immediately released his grip, but Hermione did not let go of his hand as he lowered it. Not breaking her eye contact, she squeezed his hand and reassured him, "I _promise_ you I don't know what Harry did last night."

When she finally let go of his hand he took a step away from her. "Forgive me." He said, the rage appearing to drain from him. Hermione rubbed at her jaw, trying to ease the throbbing there. He scrubbed his face and shook his head, looking shocked at his behaviour.

"May I leave?" Hermione asked after a moment, her eyes starting to fill with tears.

"Please don't." He said, looking pained.

Disregarding his plea and her incomplete potion, Hermione grabbed her bag and flew from the room. She willed her tears not to fall yet, instead waiting until she had the privacy of her four-poster bed, a silencing charm in place and her curtains firmly closed.

* * *

It was 2:50pm on Monday 15th April and Severus was teaching his Gryffindor and Slytherin fifth-year double Potions class – the class Granger was in.

She hadn't been to see him since Tuesday night. He hadn't realised how much time he had been spending with her until she had stopped visiting. His evenings felt empty without her, her absence permeating his thoughts without his permission. The girl hadn't even met his eye _once_ during the last two hours of this lesson.

He didn't mean to lose his temper, but he had been so certain that Potter would have told her. He couldn't bare for her to be in on a joke against him, mocking him. The parallels were too similar – a Gryffindor girl, smart and kind, _a friend of his,_ being ripped from him by a Potter. He didn't doubt that Lily came to laugh at him behind his back, and he couldn't stand for history to repeat itself.

He was so caught up in his frustration that he didn't realise _he_ was the one mirroring the past. He had driven Granger away after losing his temper, which when boiled down, was exactly how he had lost Lily. His feelings for Granger were admittedly rather different to the feelings he held for Lily – but acknowledging that did little to dampen how hurt he felt.

When there were 5 minutes left of the lesson he instructed his class to start bottling up their potions and pack up their belongings. "Once you have handed me your finished potion, you may leave. Miss Granger you will stay behind; I need a word with you." He commanded.

Once everyone else had left the classroom, she walked over to his desk and handed in her potion. "What did you need to tell me?" She asked, _finally_ looking him in the eye.

"I don't have much time now, if I keep you too long your friends will ask questions. I need to apologise to you. If you'll allow me to, that is. Come to my office tonight after dinner." He asked, hoping she would grant him the opportunity to make things right between them.

She didn't speak, but she nodded her head in agreement.

"That's all I needed to say, you may go." He said, sighing. She quickly left, it not escaping him that she held no hesitation in leaving his company.

* * *

Later that day Hermione was waiting outside his office at 7:45pm, disillusioned. When she left the dining table and made her excuses to her friends, she saw that Snape was still there. They had always tried to be careful with her visiting him, but this had become even more of a priority since Umbridge had become Headmistress. It was hard to know who was watching when she had so many Slytherins in her Inquisitorial Squad.

Around 10 minutes later she saw Snape come walking around the corner. His eyes found her form just before he unlocked the door to his office, leaving the door wide open for her to enter. She closed it behind her and removed the disillusionment charm. Snape then locked the door, never taking his eyes off her.

"Thank you for coming." He said. When she remained silent he continued, "Would you be more comfortable in here, or in my rooms?" Hermione thought he looked nervous.

"We can go to your rooms." She said. Clearly it was the answer he had been hoping to hear, as he smiled at her.

"I'll make us some tea." He said as they walked into his living room.

Hermione stood awkwardly in silence as she waited for him to return, not knowing what to do with herself. After a short while he returned with two steaming mugs of tea in hand, offering one to her.

"As I mentioned earlier, I owe you an apology. I allowed my temper to cloud my judgement – _I know_ you're not like Potter." He started, shaking his head as if in disbelief at his own actions. "I should have taken you at your word when you told me you didn't know what had been said."

"Yes, you should have." She agreed, her voice hard. "I have no idea where this irrational hatred for Harry comes from, but I don't deserve to be dragged into it."

"It's not irrational." He said defensively.

"Do you mind explaining that to me then? I have _never_ seen Harry do anything to you that warrants your treatment of him." She bristled.

"I knew his father, and I know the boy well enough to figure out that the apple has not fallen far from the tree." He argued.

Hermione scoffed. "You do realise he wasn't raised by his dad? How on earth can he be like a man he can barely remember! Besides, everyone loved James Po-"

" _No._ " Snape interrupted. "Not _everyone_ loved James Potter. You should try widening your social circle to include people that aren't Gryffindors, and you'll quickly find someone he tormented." He spat. "He was a proud, hubristic arsehole whose arrogance has evidently been passed down to his spawn."

"Harry is not arrogant!" Hermione shouted, offended on behalf of her closest friend.

"Then explain to me why he had the nerve to use a pensieve and access _my_ memories as if they were his own!" He demanded.

Hermione paused, not sure if she had heard him correctly. "He did _what?_ "

"I caught him looking through my memories as if they were a fucking catalogue for him to peruse. That's why I threw him out, because I _refuse_ to lower myself to helping such an ungrateful shit. The sheer audacity to saunter into my classroom, disrespect me _,_ and then expect me to bend over and teach him occlumency!" He shouted, clenching his jaw.

"There must have been some sort of misunderstanding." She said, sounding confused. The Harry she knew wouldn't behave so disrespectfully.

"No, there was not." He said firmly.

"If it's any consolation, I don't think he's very proud about it. He refuses to talk about it still." Hermione said softly, feeling defeated in her argument.

"It's not."

"It's still no justification for hurting me." She countered, bringing the conversation back to his behaviour towards her.

He closed his eyes for a moment, looking ashamed. "I didn't mean to; I just saw red – I didn't think."

"That's not really good enough."

"I don't know what else I can say." He ran his hands through his hair and took a step away from her. It was unlike him to look so visibly distressed, and it almost made Hermione regret giving him a hard time.

"I should tell you; I no longer have a need to see you on Tuesday evenings. What I was doing… It's not feasible to continue with Umbridge as Headmistress. I was thinking therefore that it may be better to terminate our arrangement. I wouldn't want to bring any undue attention to us." She said, looking to change the subject after a short stretch of silence. She had meant to tell him the previous Tuesday, but she didn't get the opportunity.

She wasn't expecting to see the clear look of hurt flash on Snape's face, before he switched to a cool mask of expressionless calm. "I see."

"Is that all you're going to say?" Hermione asked, not understanding his response.

"I already apologised to you. I don't know what else you expect of me. If you no longer wish to see me, that is your choice." He said, voice clipped as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"I never said that I didn't want to see you." Hermione said, now looking hurt herself. "I didn't realise not brewing for you meant that I couldn't see you."

"I'm not saying that – I thought you were implying you didn't want to see me anymore." He clarified, looking at her intently.

"Why would I not want to see you anymore?" She asked perplexed.

"You're upset with me! I crossed a line-"

"That doesn't mean I'm going to cut you out!" She said, interrupting him. "I might not be okay with how you behaved, but you made a mistake. Why would I throw a friendship away over a mistake?" She asked, incredulous.

"You went a week without seeing me." He argued.

"I needed some time to collect my thoughts! I was upset." She explained.

A bizarre expression appeared on Snape's face then, as if he were looking at her for the first time, but it didn't remain for very long. "So, you've forgiven me?" He asked.

"I'm still a little upset by it, but yes, _of course_ I'm forgiving you. I don't believe you acted out of malice."

Snape relaxed his shoulders, the tension leaving his body. "Thank you." He said, the gratitude clear in his voice.

* * *

It was half past midnight on Saturday 4th May, and Hermione was outside, on the floor of the Gryffindor Tower balcony. She couldn't sleep, so she had come out here to collect her thoughts.

It had been around a month since the D.A. had disbanded, Dumbledore had left Hogwarts, and her contact with Tonks and Mad-Eye had been terminated. For the first time since she was 13, she no longer had any use for her time-turner. There were days where she had resented Dumbledore for the pressure he had placed upon her, but now she longed for the feeling of purpose that had come with its use.

In many ways, Hermione felt abandoned. She knew logically that it wasn't Dumbledore's fault that he didn't have a chance to talk to her before leaving – if anything, it was hers for being a member of Dumbledore's Army. She knew that it was sensible that she no longer snuck out of the castle without him being around – the risk _did_ outweigh the gain – but that didn't mean she couldn't help but feel pushed out. She didn't even have the community of the D.A. anymore. Instead, she had the monotony of daily classes, evenings in the common room with her friends, and the freedom to be a 16-year-old girl. The problem was she was an adult now, and she didn't _want_ this routine. The only thing that felt good anymore was her time spent with Snape in his quarters, because that was the only place she didn't have to pretend to be a child.

Hermione loved academia, her desire to discover and learn had always driven her forward. She thrived in an environment where she was pushed to build upon and challenge what she already knew. However, Hogwarts had lost its colour for her. It didn't test her anymore, the lessons were too easy, and the idea of spending two more years here felt overwhelming. The time-turner sat around her neck like a lead weight – mocking her of the life she could have had, if only she had known when to say enough is enough. Ironically, she wished she could only go back in time and change her choices – talk her 13-year-old self out of the temptation. Hermione let her head hit the brick of the tower, tucked her knees against her chest, and allowed the tears to fall.

It was sometime later that Hermione was brought out of her musings by the sound of approaching footsteps. It was dark, and she struggled to see who could be walking along the tower at this time, knowing it must be approaching 1am. It was only when the figure was about 10 feet away that she could make out the identity of the person walking her way – it was Snape. His black clothing had camouflaged him in the night. His hair hung in lank curtains round his face, his expression stormy as he walked along the balcony.

As she rubbed the wetness away from her cheeks, Snape's head instantly turned to look at her, following the movement. She was disillusioned, but she knew he was rather adept at noticing the shimmer of the charm. He strode towards her figure, and Hermione knowing she had been caught, removed the disillusionment charm before he had a chance to.

"Granger?" He said, stopping in his tracks.

"Sorry, I know I shouldn't be here. I'll go back to bed." She said dejectedly as she stood up, not possessing the energy to pretend she was okay.

He continued walking towards her. "Look at me." He said softly. Hermione turned her head away from him, not wanting him to see that she was upset. "I said, look at me." He repeated. "You've been crying."

Hermione didn't say anything, but her eyes teared up more upon her emotional state being acknowledged.

"Disillusion yourself and follow me." He ordered her.

She did as she was instructed and followed him all the way from Gryffindor tower to the Slytherin dungeons. Once she was inside his office and the door was shut, she removed the charm, and followed him into his rooms. She had never been inside his quarters this late before.

"Why were you in Gryffindor tower?" She asked as she walked into the room.

"I was delivering a report to McGonagall." He said simply, turning to face her. Hermione knew that he met with the Death Eaters on Friday nights; McGonagall must have become his new point of contact following Dumbledore's departure.

"So, why are you out of bed?" He asked.

"I couldn't sleep."

"What's troubling you?" He questioned; concern written across his face.

"Nothing really. I'm just being silly." Hermione said dismissively.

"You can let me be the judge of that." He said quirking an eyebrow. "Now, tell me what's upset you."

"I don't really know where to start." She said looking up, feeling the tears sting at her eyes again. She willed herself not to cry as she wrapped her arm around herself.

"Why don't you sit down, I'll make us some tea, and you can start from the beginning." He offered.

"I'm not sure if a cup of tea is going to be strong enough." She said wryly.

Snape raised his eyebrows at this. "I'm not giving you alcohol."

"Perhaps some water instead?"

"That's more appropriate."

Hermione watched him as he moved around his kitchenette, pouring them both a glass of water. It had always been a question in the back of her mind as to whether she should trust the man in front of her, but looking at him now, looking at him tonight – she knew. Something inside of her told her that this was where she needed to be at this very moment.

When he returned he placed the two glasses of water on the coffee table and took a seat next to her.

"Tell me what's happened." He said, looking at her expectantly.

Hermione sighed, bracing herself for the conversation she was about to have. "When I was 13 I approached McGonagall because I couldn't decide which classes I should take. The issue was that I wanted to take them all, but as I'm sure you know, that's impossible." She began, shifting her body on the sofa to face Snape.

"Yes, I think I vaguely recall Minerva boasting about your ambition." He said, sounding confused at the direction of the conversation.

"Did she ever tell you what the solution to that problem was?"

Snape rolled his eyes at this. "Please tell me Granger that you're not crying because you regret electing out of divination." He sighed wearily, pinching his nose.

"Yes, I'm utterly distraught I can't spend an hour a week interpreting tea leaves." She deadpanned.

"That's exactly what it sounds like!" He exclaimed, looking as if he were regretting inviting her in.

Sighing, Hermione continued. "I had a meeting with her and Dumbledore, to discuss how I could attend each lesson. Swearing me to secrecy, they gave me something." She explained. Hermione then took her jumper off, leaving her in a plain, short-sleeved t-shirt. Removing the concealment charm that she had placed on the time-turner she asked, "Do you know what this is?"

Snape looked at the necklace, then at Hermione, and then back at the necklace in disbelief. "It can't be, that's not…" He started. "No." He said firmly; a look of horror graced his features. He stood up then and ran his hands through his lank hair.

The action drew Hermione's attention to his hands, which she noticed were trembling. "You're shaking." She said concerned, sitting up straight.

"I'm fine – don't change the subject." He snapped defensively. "You're in possession of a _time-turner?_ " He asked incredulously. "They gave you a _time-turner_ when you were _13,_ so you could take what? Two additional subjects?!"

"Yes, I've since dropped muggle studies and divination." She said lamely, knowing how inadequate an excuse it was.

He barked a laugh. "Fantastic! A muggle-born teenager meddling with _time_ so she can study fucking muggle studies and divination." He spat. "You were right. Which do you prefer, wine or whiskey?" He asked, shaking his head. "I don't think I can listen to this drinking water."

"Wine would be nice." She said. He summoned two glasses and a bottle of red wine. She watched him pour a glass, down it, and then pour himself a second at an impressive rate. He then poured her a glass and offered it to her.

"So, they give you a time-turner. Then what?" He demanded, sitting next to her again.

"Well, at the end of my third year Sirius got captured. If you remember, they were going to give him the dementor's kiss."

"Yes, what a blessing he was saved." He drawled, voice dripping in sarcasm. Hermione merely rolled her eyes and allowed his comment to slide – they'd be here all night if they started to get into his feud with Sirius.

"Harry and I went back in time and managed to save both him and Buckbeak. Sirius was able to leave the school grounds by flying Buckbeak to a safe place."

"I always knew you two were behind his escape." He said bitterly, taking a large sip of wine.

"Yes, I've not forgotten how angry you were." She commented.

"Then what happened?" He asked, pushing the story forwards.

"Dumbledore calls me into his office at the start of my fourth year and explains that I can be of great help if I agree to take some additional lessons and tutor Harry. Of course, I wouldn't have had time to do that _and_ study for my classes, so it was agreed I would still use the time-turner." She explained.

Snape shook his head disapprovingly. "How often did you use it?" He asked.

Hermione swallowed hard, feeling uncomfortable at divulging the extent to which she had abused the privilege. Dumbledore may have been complicit in encouraging her – and at times, forcing her – but she knew that she was responsible for much of the travelling she had done.

"A fair amount." She started, glossing over his question. "Dumbledore thought it would be wise for me to learn occlumency so I could block my surface thoughts. He told me it could be damaging to my reputation if people knew I was older than my peers. So, Tonks taught me."

Snape finished his second glass of wine before then asking, "How old are you?"

"Does that matter?" She asked, hoping she wouldn't need to answer his question.

"17, I assume? It's sensible to estimate you've aged a few months after nearly three years of use." He said as he reached forward to touch her arm in a comforting gesture. "I mean, what is it at most? 6, 7 months? At least I feel a little better about offering you the wine if you're of age." He joked; Hermione suspected it was to lighten the mood. Unfortunately, it just made her feel queasier hearing how far off his guess was. She didn't correct him though, allowing him to believe his own assumption.

"I was brewing for you when I was sneaking out to see Tonks. Before Christmas it was to practice occlumency, afterwards it was to hear updates on Order meetings. Dumbledore told me that the Order wasn't ready to know my age just yet, so my joining had to remain unofficial." She told him, not quite lying but not giving him enough information to know his supposition was incorrect. "I was to brew for you so I would have an accountable alibi."

Snape shook his head. He summoned a second bottle of wine and poured himself a third glass, and Hermione a second. "This isn't how I expected to find out that he doesn't trust me." He laughed without humour, looking exhausted as he slumped back into the sofa.

"That's _not_ true. He told me in his own words that he-"

"Granger, he's had you leave the castle so you can learn basic occlumency and be clued in on Order meetings – both are things that I could have done for you. To top it off, he's forced us to meet regardless so questions concerning your whereabouts couldn't be raised, which required you to endanger your health _and_ our timeline. He doesn't trust me." He said dejectedly. After a stretch of silence, he asked, "Are you still using it?"

"I have no need." She told him. "I have nothing to do other than my schoolwork now." She said, smiling sadly. "That's why I was upset, I just feel lost."

"That's how it should be. You shouldn't be touching that _thing_ round your neck." He said solemnly.

Hermione tucked her legs underneath her and faced him on the sofa, leaning her head against the leather back. "I think being forced to brew for you has been the best thing to come from this mess."

He looked at her, and his eyes softened. "Is that the wine talking?" He teased.

"Yes, normally I detest your company." She giggled.

Hermione looked back at his hands, which were firmly gripping his legs – most likely an attempt of his to calm the shaking.

"Are you sure you're okay?" She asked softly as she placed her hand that wasn't holding her wine glass over one of his. "You're still trembling."

"This may shock you, but the Dark Lord has a temper." He remarked drily. "I was unlucky enough to be on the receiving end of it tonight."

"Is there nothing you can do to ease the shaking?" She asked, concerned. He shook his head as he tightened his grip on her hand.

"Who knows? About your time travel?" He asked after a moment.

"Different people know different amounts." Hermione sighed. "McGonagall, Sirius, Tonks, Harry, and Mad-Eye all know that I've used a time-turner at some point. Dumbledore is the only person who knows about it all, although I believe he's told Mad-Eye a fair amount." She said, recalling that Moody knew how old she was over the Summer.

"If Tonks taught you occlumency, surely she must know the full extent to which you've used it?"

"No, she was very respectful when we practised." Hermione frowned.

Snape scoffed, "You can't be. Not if you want to teach it properly."

Hermione glared at him and went to withdraw her hand, but he gripped it tighter. The wine told her to ignore the impropriety, and instead focus on the flutter in her chest that his action caused.

"I could teach you some day." He offered. "How to defend yourself against a proper attack."

"I would say that would be nice, but Harry hasn't left you a glowing review." Hermione smirked, finishing her glass of wine.

"It would be different with you." He said softly.

Hermione moved forward to place her head on his shoulder. The hand that was holding hers came to drape over her, bringing her closer into his chest. She wrapped her arm round his middle, finding comfort in his arms. Listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, her eyes soon felt heavy. Within moments the pair had fallen asleep in each other's arms, curled up on his sofa.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is the last chapter I have already typed up, so updates will go down to once every 1-2 weeks going forwards (typically). Thank you so much to everyone who has supported this story so far! I love reading all of your thoughts on it. 
> 
> I'll throw in a disclaimer and say that there are parts of this chapter that are heavily influenced by the Order of the Phoenix book. A few lines of dialogue have been written with that book as a reference. I wanted to keep it as realistically close to canon as possible, and only updating it from the view of Hermione being older and more experienced. This is the point in the story where we start to wave goodbye to canon, and say hello to more drastic plot changes.

The following morning Severus woke up slowly. The first thing he was aware of was his throbbing head – the second thing was the curly hair of Hermione Granger tickling his chin. _Shit_ , he thought to himself as the memories of the previous night came flooding back. He had caught her out of bed and taken her back here, and they had talked well into the early hours about what she had been doing for Dumbledore. He knew the line of professionalism had been blurred between them a long time ago, but _this?_ He had gone too far.

He turned to look at the clock, it was 9am. They had both missed breakfast – what if someone had spotted they were both gone? Would someone connect the dots? He slowly pulled his body up, moving Granger off him as he did so. The movement roused her awake. He watched her rub at her eyes groggily as she came to her senses.

"What's the time?" She asked, voice hoarse from sleep.

"9 in the morning. We've missed breakfast." He said tetchily.

"Oh." Granger said lamely. _Does she not know how serious this is?_ He thought to himself, feeling frustrated.

"Is that all you're going to say?" He snapped.

"I've just woken up to be fair-" She cried.

"Yes, that's the _problem._ " He interrupted her. "You've just woken up in _my_ living room, in _my_ arms." He spat. He stood up and vanished the two bottles of wine and empty wine glasses. "Please tell me you realise that this is not okay. That _this_ -" He said, gesturing between the two of them, "-should _not_ be happening."

"You're the one that brought me here!" She said defensively. "I was willing to go to bed; _you_ were the one that insisted I talk to you about my problems!"

"I thought we would just talk! Not wind up asleep together in my living room!" He shouted at her. Sighing in frustration he continued, "How likely is it your absence will be noticed at breakfast?"

"It's not that unusual for me to skip it on a weekend. I keep my bed curtains charmed shut, so no one in my dormitory would know that I wasn't just sleeping." After a pause, she continued, "If it would make you feel better I could always just go back in time-"

"No!" He shouted incredulously, interrupting her a second time. "You will not travel back in time to go to breakfast – that's ludicrous! We clearly need to have a conversation about how dangerous time travel is if you're even entertaining that as an option for something so trivial." He said scornfully.

"Don't patronise me." She snapped at him. "I know what the dangers are, I know how to do it safely. I've certainly been doing it long enough." She said, defending herself. She stood up from her place on the sofa and put her jumper back on.

"Don't mistake dumb luck for holding expertise on something." He sneered at her.

She laughed humourlessly. "Dumbledore trusts me. If he didn't, he would never have allowed me to continue using it." She argued.

His lip curled. "You don't see it do you? He's manipulated you! You've thrown months of your life away because he's decided to take a punt on your childhood. A few additional defence lessons, for what? The effect of you working with Potter is most likely negligible – and now you've had to spend this year continuing to time travel just so Dumbledore and you can cover up your mistakes."

"So, you're telling me that you think everything I have done is useless." She said coolly.

"That's a crass way to put it-" He started, trying to explain his meaning.

"But that's how you feel." She said bluntly, cutting him off.

Snape sighed and pinched his large nose. "We're getting off topic. We need to talk about what happened last night – I need to make it very clear to you that this cannot happen again. We shouldn't be touching each other, and you certainly should _never_ be sleeping here."

"Don't worry _Professor,_ I understand that it was just one of my many mistakes." She said snidely.

"Don't twist the knife in further, Granger." He snapped, losing his patience.

"So, you want a conversation about propriety, but you won't allow me to call you by your title?" She said, incensed.

"I don't understand why you are being difficult about this." He asked her, throwing his hands up.

"Perhaps it's because I spent my night opening up to you, and yet all I've awoken to this morning is you belittling me." She explained as if this were obvious.

"I'm clearly not doing a very good job of this." He started, "You must understand that our friendship is hardly appropriate – I've come to terms with that – but there _needs_ to be boundaries when you are my student. This conversation is separate to what you told me last night."

"I realise that, _that_ isn't my problem." She said, exasperated. "What I don't need you to do is pretend that you understand a situation that 24 hours ago you knew nothing about." She said, pointing her chin up defiantly.

"Make no mistake, I appreciate you opening up to me. However, you need to know that I'm not just going to tell you what you want to hear. I won't behave as if I approve of you endangering yourself _and_ this timeline." He said sternly.

"There are ways of wording your opinion. It's one thing to say you don't agree with what I've done, it's another to tell me my contribution has been worthless." After a pause Granger continued, "I should be going; my absence _will_ go noticed if I'm here much longer."

"Do you need a replenishing potion? They're rather good at fixing a hangover." He offered, not wanting her to leave on bad terms.

Granger shook her head. "I won't need one. I didn't drink as much as you."

"If you're sure." He said, watching Granger conceal the time-turner round her neck. "When will you be here next?" He asked.

She sighed, "Shall we say Monday?" She offered reluctantly. He nodded his head in agreement.

He walked her to the door of his rooms and held it open for her. "I _am_ pleased you confided in me. I'm sorry if I miscommunicated that." He told her. She smiled at him, but it didn't reach her eyes. She disillusioned herself and left his office.

* * *

It was 2:30pm on Saturday 18th May and Hermione and Harry were sat outside on the school grounds together, sitting under a tree to shield them from the warm sunshine; it was clear that the Summer was soon approaching. Ron and Ginny were at quidditch practice, so the two friends were left with each other's company. The practice would be especially long today, as the final was only a week away and the team needed to finesse their strategy.

The two of them always spent afternoons when there was quidditch practice together now. Prior to Harry's ban, Hermione often would go to the library or talk to Neville. She didn't want Harry to dwell on missing out however, so she didn't let him spend this time alone. The expulsion from the team had been rough on him.

They were sitting in companionable silence. Harry was laying back on the grass as he absentmindedly picked at it, and Hermione was reading a novel as she leaned against the tree. Ordinarily, she preferred to read non-fiction, but she found that fiction was better suited to casual reading when in the company of others. Fiction did not require as much attention from her.

After about 15 or so minutes of the pair not saying a word to each other, Harry turned his head to look at her and asked, "Do you think Umbridge will stay as Headmistress next year?"

Hermione marked her place in her book and closed it, knowing this would not be a short discussion. "I hope not." She said sadly. It had been something she had often wondered about herself. "It feels strange, doesn't it? To not know quite what's happening, what the plan is – if there even is a plan."

"Yeah." Harry frowned. "Dumbledore must surely have one. He always does." He said, sounding as if he were trying to convince himself.

"I'm sure he's thinking of something, but that doesn't necessarily mean he knows what to do."

"Did he speak to you much this year?" Harry asked; it sounded like he was forcing himself to come across as casual. "I know you used to speak to him each term last year, so I was just wondering if maybe that had continued?"

Hermione sighed. "He spoke to me at the start of the year, but I've not heard anything since."

"Was he the one that arranged for you to brew for Snape?"

"Yeah." Hermione admitted dejectedly. She had spent so much of the year trying to cover up what she was doing, that now it was all over it felt rather silly.

"Sorry, we don't need to talk about it if you don't want to." Harry offered.

"It's not that I don't want to… It's just-" Hermione paused, trying to gather her thoughts. "-I was told to keep what I _was_ doing to myself, but I'm not doing anything anymore. Not since he left."

"Does it involve – are you still using your – you know," He said, nodding his head in the direction of her chest. Hermione averted her gaze, feeling self-conscious. "You're not meant to tell me?" He asked, reading her body language.

Hermione shook her head, her eyes filling with unshed tears. She had never considered herself to be someone that cried often, but lately things had been starting to feel heavier. Telling herself to get a grip, she choked back her tears and continued, "Although, with Dumbledore gone, I'm not sure what difference it makes. I don't even know when I'll next see him."

"He hasn't spoken to me once this year. He couldn't even look me in the eye when I told him about Ron's dad." Harry said bitterly.

"Do you ever feel…" Hermione trailed off, unsure on how to pose her question.

"Like I've been abandoned?" He finished for her. Hermione nodded. "Yeah." He answered, his voice gruff with emotion.

"At least you're not alone in feeling that way." She tried to reassure him. After a moment she confessed, "I've been struggling recently, coming to terms with it all. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I don't enjoy classes anymore. I feel like I'm losing myself, nothing here challenges me."

"Why do you think that is?" Harry asked, propping himself up on his elbows.

"My age maybe? With the… you know-" She started, before turning to scan their surroundings to make sure nobody was nearby. To be certain they wouldn't be overheard, she cast the Muffliato charm – something she had got a fair amount of use from since Snape had showed it to her back in January.

"When did you turn 17?" Harry asked softly, understanding that she was referring to the use of her time-turner.

"Around this time last year." She said, swallowing hard. She couldn't look at him.

"Hermione…" He said, the realisation dawning on him.

"I know. I _know_ I've overused it." She said pre-emptively, not wanting to hear it from him.

"So, you've at least had one birthday since then. Are you still 18?"

"Yes." She said firmly. "Although, I'll be turning 19 at the end of July." She added after a moment's hesitation.

"That explains why the classes don't challenge you anymore – you're old enough to be graduating this year."

"If he ever returns – and I hope he does – I'll ask Dumbledore if I can graduate at the end of my sixth year. It's not unheard of, there have been cases where students have taken their N.E.W.T.s early before." She said before adding, "Although admittedly, they're normally pregnant witches."

"I can already picture the Daily Prophet headlines." He joked, teasing her. Hermione laughed with him.

"I don't know if I really want to leave Hogwarts, but I don't think I can do two more years of pretending. I don't think I realised how much learning had made up my own identity. I feel like I'm having a crisis, and I'm certain it's because I've got nothing to drive me forwards."

"I understand." He said sadly.

"I would only be leaving a year early." She said, trying to justify her plan without hurting him. She didn't want Harry to think she was abandoning him too. "It's highly unlikely to ever be a reality anyway. Dumbledore isn't Headmaster, and even if he were I'm not sure he would agree with me leaving Hogwarts."

"You could just camp out with Ron and I; we could hide you in our dorm for our seventh year. No one would ever know you were there." He joked, trying to lighten the conversation.

"No thank you – I've heard Ron's snoring. I'm not sure I could subject myself to it for an entire year." She giggled.

"I don't know, I reckon we could convince you." He grinned, making Hermione laugh.

After a moment of silence, Hermione asked, "Do you miss duelling?"

"Yes. I think it's what I miss the most about the D.A." He said, sounding confused by the change in conversation.

"For old times' sake, do you want to go off somewhere and do it?" Hermione asked.

"Of course, but where? The Room of Requirement is being monitored." Harry said, his interest piqued.

"There's always the Shrieking Shack." Hermione suggested.

"That's a very good idea." Harry agreed.

The pair of them quickly jumped up and made their way over to the Whomping Willow. They duelled together for hours, losing track of time entirely. They turned up to dinner almost half an hour late, out of breath and looking dishevelled – which subsequently served to attract a few looks from the student body. Hermione's spirits were too high for her to bother caring though, and she got the impression that Harry felt the same.

* * *

It was 8:10pm on Tuesday 11th June and Hermione was in Snape's rooms laying down on his sofa with a book on Herbology. The examination period had begun this week and wouldn't finish until the end of next. Earlier in the day she had her Transfiguration O.W.L, and tomorrow she would have her Herbology O.W.L, so she was getting in some last-minute reading to prepare. She didn't feel any anxiety over her exams as she had already read much further ahead for many of her subjects, and certainly for any she was anticipating on taking for her N.E.W.T.s.

Snape was sat on the opposite sofa to her looking over his N.E.W.T level written Potions exam, ensuring he was happy with the questions and layout before his students sat the test the following day.

"Do you feel ready for your Herbology exam?" He asked, looking up at her.

"Yes, I can't see it being too difficult." She answered breezily.

"You're not worried you're a little too confident?" He asked, quirking his brow.

"I moved onto studying the N.E.W.T level material a while back. This is rather easy in comparison." She clarified.

"That's very studious of you. Are you sure you covered the O.W.L content thoroughly enough if you moved on so quickly? You wouldn't want to be punished for being dismissive of the difficulty."

"I think you're forgetting I've had plenty of time at my disposal the last couple of years."

"Surely you've been using it only when you need to?" He asked, narrowing his eyes. He understood that she was hinting at her time travel. "I wouldn't have thought you would have made more time for something as inconsequential as excess revision?"

"I've not intentionally used it to read ahead. It just… happened." She said, sighing. "I'd find myself spending hours reading about a subject, going onto book after book, and losing track of time entirely. I would only realise when I'd look at the clock, and it would dawn on me I needed to be somewhere else hours beforehand. I suppose having the time-turner at my disposal removed the necessity for me to keep an eye on how long I would spend on a task." She explained.

"If you've started learning N.E.W.T level material, does this mean you've already decided which N.E.W.T.s you'll be taking next year?" He asked.

"Transfiguration, Herbology, Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Potions, DADA, and Charms." She answered.

"That's an ambitious selection. Most people only choose 5." He remarked, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

"I'm not most people." She smirked.

"I suppose not." He said wryly. He paused for a moment and then asked, "Have you still been using it for reading? The time-turner?"

"No, I told you weeks ago that I've not used it all since Dumbledore left."

"I wasn't sure if that was still the case." He said softly. "Do you still wear it?"

Hermione nodded. "I know it's safe if it's on me."

Snape's lips thinned in disapproval. "You're increasing your chances of a nasty accident. If it broke whilst you were wearing it…"

"It's not as fragile as it looks Snape. You'd be surprised how much they can withstand." She rolled her eyes.

"What if someone attacked you?"

"What if I took it off and someone stole it from me?" She countered.

"You know how to hide something." He said, unconvinced. "If you didn't want it found you could make sure of it."

"I'm not taking it off." She said firmly.

He stared at her in disbelief. "Does it not concern you that you can't part with it? That you can't just let it go." He snapped. "You _could_ take it off, you _choose_ not to because you don't want to relinquish the power that comes with wearing that thing." He said, nodding in the direction of her chest.

"It's not about power." She scoffed. "It's about the risk of losing it-"

"-I'm not sure if you're lying to me or us both." He impatiently interrupted her. "If you were smart you would take it off and leave it well alone. The temptation will _always_ call to you when it's hanging around your neck – it's too easy to reach." He reasoned.

"I'm very much capable of controlling myself." She said defensively.

"You _just_ told me that you use it when you've merely been reading for longer than you ought to! You were ready to use it that morning when you woke up here, and you didn't even need to!" He said exasperatedly. "You've become desensitised to the danger you place yourself in every time you use it."

Hermione clenched her jaw. "I don't need you to order me about. I know what I'm doing."

Snape sighed. "I'm not trying to 'order you about', I'm trying to be your friend. I'm looking out for you."

Hermione glared at him. " _Fine._ I'll take it off when I get back to my dormitory."

"When you see Dumbledore again you should tell him that you won't be using it anymore, that you don't need to." He insisted. "I could even come with you-"

"No." Hermione said resolutely, cutting him off. "He _can't_ know that I've told you. You must pretend you do not know unless he tells you otherwise."

"He relies on others not knowing so he can't be challenged!"

"You told me that I could trust you! Now you need to prove it." She countered, not wishing to argue about this.

Snape sighed, "But you will talk to him? When the opportunity presents itself?" He begged.

"Yes."

"Promise me." He demanded; his voice unwavering.

"I promise."

The two spent the next hour in mostly silence, both concentrating on their respective tasks. When Hermione left that evening she kept to Snape's request for her to remove the time-turner. Once safe in her dormitory she unclasped it from her neck and placed it in a small jewellery box that her mother had given her. She locked the box and placed a protective charm around it ensuring she could be the only individual to open it. She then hid the box in her bedside table drawer, placing a concealment charm on it. She spent much of the night touching her chest, struggling to get used to the foreign sensation of the necklace no longer being there. In the 5 years she had owned the time-turner, she had never once removed it.

She never enjoyed being proven wrong, but she knew there was truth behind Snape's words. There had already been several occasions since Dumbledore had left that Hermione had almost reached for it, only just managing to talk herself out of it. It _was_ too tempting to keep so close to hand.

* * *

It was 20th June and Hermione had found herself in the Department of Mysteries, frantically on the run from a group of Death Eaters who would happily kill her and her friends if granted the opportunity. One masked man had already attempted to cast the killing curse; if it had not been for Harry bravely tackling her assailant, she would already be dead.

She had told Harry _not_ to pick up that damned prophecy. She just had to hope that none of them – him included – would have to pay the price of his curiosity with their life. She hadn't had much time to process that they had collectively been tricked, that Sirius was _not_ here being held captive. She knew when they were still at Hogwarts that they were acting too rash, but Harry had made her seem foolish – selfish, even – for wanting to wait before acting. Obsessing on what-ifs in the stark clarity of hindsight was futile though, right now she needed to focus her attention on the present. She needed to concentrate on surviving.

Her heart felt like it was in her throat as she hurried through the Time Room, Neville and Harry slightly further in front of her. In her head she was trying to desperately recall everything she had been taught about defence, frantically going through each lesson she had with Mad-Eye and Snape. She knew that she had to strike the balance between accurately observing her surroundings, but not slowing herself down in doing so.

They had already managed to take down two of the Death Eaters. By some stroke of luck, Hermione had managed to incapacitate one by stupefying them headfirst into a bell jar filled with time. Consequently, the man was now walking around with the head and brain of a baby. He was one of the few that had unmasked themselves, but Hermione did not recognise the man. She had dragged Harry and Neville away from the grotesque transformation, knowing they did not have the time to marvel at the strange magic.

Suddenly, they heard an ear-piercing scream from a nearby room.

"RON?" Harry shouted, stopping in his tracks at the noise. "GINNY? LUNA?"

Hermione winced, knowing that he had just helped to give away their location. The sound of approaching footsteps was getting louder, so she knew they weren't far away from another fight.

"Come on, Harry!" Neville whispered hurriedly.

With Hermione now in front, the three of them continued running, rapidly approaching the door that lead into the black hallway. Hermione spotted two masked Death Eaters making a beeline for them, just as Harry grabbed her by the wrist to drag her into a small office.

She non-verbally locked the door and braced herself for their entry – it was only a basic locking spell, and so could easily be undone.

"Alohomora!" She heard one of the unidentified men snarl, before hearing the mechanic of the lock turn.

"IMPEDIMENTA!" Both men shouted once they had the door open, but Hermione was ready and deflected the spell.

"HE'S HERE, WE'VE GOT-" One man started to shout, but Hermione non-verbally silenced him.

Thinking on her feet, she recalled a nasty hex that she had read about in one of the Dark Arts books in Sirius' library. "Ossio Fervefacio!" She shouted, aiming her wand at his hands. The incantation painfully melted the bones there, rendering him unable to hold his wand. At the same time, Harry had cast a Full Body-Bind curse on the other Death Eater, before quickly casting the same spell on the man Hermione had injured.

Both boys looked at Hermione in alarm, but she shrugged them off. Snape had taught her to defend herself faster than she could think – that she needed to work instinctively if she wanted to survive – and that's what she had done. After all, _this_ is what Dumbledore had wanted from her. This fight was why he had ensured she was prepared to protect Harry and herself; he had known this day would come.

"We need to keep on moving. We need to find the others." Neville said firmly, and Harry and Hermione nodded in agreement. The three of them crept out of the office, into the dark hallway, being mindful to reduce their noise so they wouldn't give away their location a second time.

"Ron!" Harry said, spotting their three other friends and hurrying over to them. "Ginny – are you al-"

But Ron cut him off, throwing his arms drunkenly round both him and Hermione. "Look at you two!" He giggled. He brought his hands up to cup their faces, "Fancy seeing you… you both… here." He slurred, a stupid grin on his face. Even in the low light of the corridor, Hermione could see that his face was ashen, and there was blood bubbling from the corner of his mouth, trickling down his chin.

"What happened to him?" Hermione asked in horror, taking a step back from Ron to look at Luna and Ginny.

Luna explained the events that had taken place in the Planet Room. Ron had been unfortunate enough to be hit with an unknown spell, and Ginny had been roughly grabbed by the ankle and was now clearly in a lot of pain.

"I think it's broken." Ginny said through gritted teeth, as she slid down the nearby wall, unable to hold herself up any longer.

"I'll fix it. You can't fight them with a broken ankle." Hermione said resolutely.

"No, there isn't time!" Neville said urgently, side-stepping Harry who was preoccupied with handling a babbling Ron. "We _need_ to keep on moving."

"Ginny, hold your leg out straight, this will only take a second." Hermione commanded in a no-nonsense tone, ignoring Neville.

Ginny looked uncertain, but the proposition of the pain being healed proved too tempting for the younger girl. "You better know what you're doing, Hermione." She said, her voice a warning. She straightened her leg as instructed, wincing in pain as she did so.

"Talus Emendo!" Hermione said, casting the healing spell. There was a crunching noise as the bone mended itself. "How does that feel?" She asked.

Ginny rotated her ankle, testing out the mobility. "Much better, thank you." She said earnestly, sighing in relief.

"Now, let's go." Harry said desperately; time was not on their side. He had his arm around Ron's shoulders, supporting him. They started running down the corridor, trying to gauge which door would be the exit.

They came within a few feet of one room, and without it being spoken, collectively decided this would be their choice. Harry started to haul Ron in the direction of the door, when Bellatrix and two other Death Eaters came running out of another door at the end of the corridor.

"There they are!" She shrieked in glee, pointing at them. There was a mad glint in her eye.

Stunning spells quickly flew from several directions, as Hermione flung the door open to usher everyone inside. Ron was roughly deposited in the room by Harry, who then ran back to help Hermione, making sure everyone got inside safely.

"Colloportus!" Harry shouted, locking the door behind them once everyone was inside. It was close – the Death Eaters were almost on top of them by the time they had the door shut.

Hermione stepped further forwards into the room, realising they were back in the Brain Room, dread filling her as she took in the many doors that were scattered all around the walls.

"We need to seal the doors." Luna said worriedly, addressing the group. Everyone other than Ron commenced to run around the room, locking each door as quickly as they could.

After locking two doors, Hermione looked back over her shoulder and watched as Ron staggered around the room looking up in amazement at the brains sitting in the golden tanks. He locked eyes with her before giggling, "Amazing… _amazing_ this place isn't it… 'Mione. Brains, brains everywhere." He slurred, doubling over in laughter.

"Ron, you need to get low and stay out of the way." Hermione said firmly, using a tone that one would ordinarily reserve for lecturing a toddler.

"Honest… Honestly 'Mione, can't you see? There are _brains_ here. Look – Accio Brain!" He said, pointing his wand at one of the chambers.

"Ron, NO!" She screamed, as she watched a brain leap out from the tank and fly towards him at speed. He greeted the tentacles with outstretched hands, watching them with joy. Hermione ran over towards him, abandoning her job of locking the doors.

Neville and Ginny stopped in their tracks upon hearing Hermione scream, and looked over in the direction of Ron, who now had a brain coiling itself around his wrists at an alarming rate.

"Hey… I… _stop_ that – I don't like this anymore." He said sadly, talking to the tendrils. "'Mione make it stop." He pleaded to her as she reached him.

"Diffindo!" Hermione shouted desperately, trying to sever the brains from crawling up any further – it didn't work. _There isn't time for this!_ She thought to herself, feeling frustrated. Once the tendrils had reached his shoulders, they started to wrap around his chest.

"It will suffocate him! You have to do something!" Ginny said panicked, running over to join Hermione and her brother.

"Immobulus!" She tried again, this time attempting to freeze the brain. It worked – although it did not relinquish its grip, the brain had stopped moving. It had bound Ron's arms to his sides however, meaning that his movement was now restricted. Satisfied that he was no longer in imminent danger, she turned to survey the room.

Luna was locking the very last door when suddenly she was thrown back before she was able to complete the incantation. She flew through the air, only stopping when she hit a desk that rendered her unconscious. _Fuck,_ Hermione thought to herself as she watched five Death Eaters come running into the room.

" _Get Potter!_ " Bellatrix shrieked at her comrades.

Harry started running back towards where Hermione, Ginny, and Neville were, desperately trying to outrun the Death Eaters hot on his tail.

"Pario Telum!" Hermione shouted, aiming her wand at the knees of one of the cloaked men chasing Harry. Arrows shot out of her wand hitting her target. The man screamed in pain as he crumpled to the floor; the heads of the weapons pushed further into his skin upon the impact.

In addition to the fallen man, two other Death Eaters started firing spells in the direction of Neville, Ginny and herself. She tried her best to deflect each curse, attempting to cover both herself and her friends. One jet of red light slipped past her defences, hitting Ginny square in the chest, stunning her.

"Stupefy! Stupefy!" Neville shouted twice, successfully managing to stun the man Hermione had injured, and a second of their attackers.

Hermione then watched as Harry did a U-turn, changing his direction so he was no longer running towards where Neville and herself were, but towards the one open door in the room. Knowing Harry, she suspected he was running away from them so the Death Eaters would leave her and Neville alone. It seemed to work, as Bellatrix, Malfoy, and the remaining mobile masked Death Eater ran straight towards him, leaving the room.

"What do we do?" Neville asked, panicked.

Choosing to act before explaining, she disarmed the two incapacitated Death Eaters. "We make sure these two can't hurt us when they wake up." She told him as she passed him one of the wands. She snapped the one she held in half, and Neville followed suit. "Harry won't be able to take them by himself; we _need_ to follow him. First though, we need to see if we can wake up Luna and Ginny." She said firmly, taking charge. Neville nodded with newfound determination.

Hermione headed straight for Ginny, whilst Neville ran over to Luna. They both attempted to use the reviving spell on the two girls.

"Where's Harry?" Ginny asked groggily, when she came to.

"He's fighting with the other Death Eaters." Hermione said gravely, helping the girl to her feet. "We need to get to him. Now."

"Luna isn't waking up!" Neville shouted.

"She's been hit too hard. We have to leave her, there's no time." Hermione said sadly. She unlocked the door that was closest to them and ran out of the Brain Room, with Neville and Ginny close behind. She paused for a moment, trying to listen to where Harry and the Death Eaters could be.

Once they worked out that the noise was coming from The Death Chamber, they ran straight towards the nearest door leading to that room. They stealthily entered the room and were met with the sight of seven Death Eaters goading Harry, informing him that he was outnumbered.

"He's not alone!" Neville shouted, announcing their arrival as he stepped forth out of the shadows. "He's still got us!" Ginny and Hermione followed, standing just slightly behind him.

"No – no – you all need to _leave!_ You can't be here!" Harry pleaded desperately.

"My, what a menacing trio you make." Lucius smirked arrogantly, mocking them. His comment was met with a wave of laughter. "You'll like this one Bella – he's a Longbottom." He said, nodding his head in the direction of Neville.

"Longbottom? Why I have had the pleasure of meeting your parents, boy." Bellatrix smiled sinisterly, practically salivating at the sight of him.

"I know!" Neville roared, "You won't be smiling when I avenge them!" Bellatrix cackled at this, her face lighting up at the opportunity to torment him.

"Grab them." Malfoy spat, commanding the others.

Two large, masked men came running up the stairs in their direction. Ginny and Neville shot numerous stunning spells their way, but both managed to miss them. Despite their size, they had almost reached them at an impressive speed.

Hermione, who had been stood the furthest back, pushed her two friends out of the way and shouted, "Bombarda Maxima!" aiming her wand at the ground by the Death Eaters' feet. This created an explosion in which both men went flying. One hit the concrete steps unceremoniously, knocking the wind from him. His mask fell off, but Hermione couldn't see his face. The other's head hit the corner of a stone bench – knocking him unconscious as blood dripped down from his wound.

"You're a feisty one, aren't you?" Another Death Eater said, stepping forward. He wasn't wearing a mask, and Hermione recognised his face from the Daily Prophet – this was Rookwood. A jet of blue light came from his wand, but Hermione quickly deflected it non-verbally.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Ginny cried, hitting him in the chest. The only Death Eaters now left standing were Lucius, Bellatrix, and two masked, unidentified men. Just as Rookwood's body hit the ground, the doors burst open and The Order came bounding through, to the surprise of everyone in the room.

Stunning spells went flying. The Death Eaters became panicked as they were all of a sudden outnumbered. "Forget everything else – just grab the blasted prophecy!" One of the masked men shouted over the chaos, lunging towards Harry.

Hermione ducked and ran to the side, so she could get a better scope of what was unfolding in front of her. Mad-Eye, Tonks, Remus, Kingsley and Sirius had arrived. Neville had been hit in the flurry of stunning spells and had been knocked unconscious.

Remus and Tonks ran forward to take on Bellatrix, as Mad-Eye took on one masked Death Eater. Kingsley took on the other – the man who had just tried to seize Harry – and Sirius headed straight to fight Malfoy.

Spotting her opportunity, Hermione ran down the stairs towards Harry to grab him – they _needed_ to get out of here. With all the Death Eaters distracted, she figured this was their best chance. "Come on, this way!" Hermione cried once she reached him, grabbing him roughly by the wrist.

They ran up the stone stairs, narrowly dodging three hexes that were sent their way. Although each Death Eater was preoccupied, they weren't just going to allow them to escape without attempting to thwart them. Their divided attention at least meant that their aim wasn't as accurate.

They were halfway up the stairs when Hermione spotted a man standing at the top, ready to attack them. With his mask off, she recognised him as Macnair – Buckbeak's would be executioner. She figured he must have been one of the stunned Death Eaters that they had left behind in the Brain Room; his lack of knee injuries suggested he wasn't the one that she had wounded.

He leaped towards them, all the while sending feeble spells their way. Hermione noticed that he was holding Neville's wand – he must have grabbed it from his unconscious body at some point during the commotion. The benefit of this was that it held no allegiance to him, and so wasn't very effective at casting spells.

"Harry, Run!" Hermione shouted at him. She could hold off a weakened Macnair – Harry just needed to get out to the exit with the prophecy.

"I don't think so, Potter." Bellatrix snarled. She ran straight after him, deflecting Harry's defensive spells effortlessly.

Hermione couldn't watch them, however. She needed to focus on taking down Macnair – _then_ she could help Harry. Although his magic was weak, Macnair's speed was still quick. He managed to deflect the non-verbal stunning spells she had attempted to strike him with. Thinking tactically, she managed to hit him with a tongue-tying curse – his spells were already less potent, so limiting him to non-verbal magic would strengthen her ability to get something past him. Taking advantage of his surprise, she silently disarmed him, and then shouted, "Incarcerous!". Thick ropes came flowing out of her wand, wrapping around his body tightly.

With Macnair defeated, she quickly scanned the room to try and find Harry. She was greeted with the sight of him lying flat on his back, writhing in pain as Bellatrix hit him with the cruciatus curse. In his torment, he had let go of the prophecy. Cackling triumphantly, the witch reached forward and picked it up from the ground. Hermione watched in horror as her hand closed around it, her eyes filling with glee.

Making a snap decision, Hermione acted. "Confringo!" She cried, aiming her wand at the prophecy. A fiery orange light shot from her wand, shattering her target into tiny pieces. Bellatrix stumbled back from the blast, in shock. A pearly white figure rose from the broken glass. Hermione could see its mouth move, but its words couldn't be heard over the cacophony of fighting going on around her. Once the figure stopped speaking it dissipated into the air around them, as if it had never been there.

Bellatrix's eyes found hers, her gaunt face contorting into ugly rage. "How dare you!" She screeched, so loudly that it drew the attention of those that were duelling around them. With a slicing motion, bright purple sparks shot from her wand, hitting Hermione's right shoulder. A white-hot pain burned through her, spreading out from the point of contact. She felt it travel into the centre of her chest and down her right arm.

Time seemed to slow down as she fell to her knees, her left hand coming to touch her wounded shoulder. There was blood – and a lot of it. It was starting to rise in her throat, choking her. All the commotion around her felt faint, as if everything was a soft, hazy dream. In the distance, she was vaguely aware of Harry screaming her name, just as everything slowly faded into a smooth black.


	15. Chapter 15

Severus was stood in the Hospital Wing, accompanied by Minerva, and Molly and Arthur Weasley. It had been approximately an hour since a handful of his Slytherins had informed him that they had been attacked by Longbottom, Lovegood, and the two youngest Weasleys. They had come to him because they could not find Umbridge, who had apparently been escorted away by Potter and Granger to be shown some 'secret weapon'.

He had feigned ignorance when Potter had cryptically told him that Black was being held captive at the Department of Mysteries. After all, he could've hardly admitted to his understanding in front of Dolores. Upon leaving her office he had headed straight for his rooms to send a non-corporeal patronus to Black to see whether he was at headquarters. When the dog had confirmed that he was indeed well and safe, he had assumed that would be the end of it.

He had not been expecting six teenagers to escape the school grounds, go off to the Ministry of Magic on a doomed rescue mission, and fight a group of lethal Death Eaters. He knew the Dark Lord's followers all too well – children were no match against them. In the 25 years he had spent being surrounded by Gryffindors, it was possibly the most grossly cliché-ridden manifestation of a Saviour Complex he had ever witnessed. He had no idea what had possessed their young minds into willingly walking into such danger.

Most of all, he couldn't believe that Granger had been stupid enough to go along with it. He didn't understand why she hadn't trusted him to act on Potter's clue. He was certainly going to give her a piece of his mind when she got back tonight, had she no value over her own safety?

Molly Weasley was stood by a hospital bed opposite him, wringing her hands anxiously whilst being on the verge of tears. Arthur was trying to reassure her that everything would be okay, although he didn't sound all too certain himself. He kept emphasising that The Order had sent a rescue party, and they would bring their children back safe. He didn't blame them for their worry, the youngest Weasley was a mere 14 years of age.

"Every year something like this happens." Minerva said quietly next to him, shaking her head. "I've never known a group of students to be so jeopardy friendly. Trouble follows them like a black cloud."

"Does trouble follow them, or is it the other way around?" He remarked, turning his head to look at her.

Minerva swallowed thickly. "They were just trying to help." She said, her voice small.

"Ah yes, that forever burning Gryffindor desire to be a hero. Their foolhardiness could very well be the death of them one day." He said through gritted teeth. Minerva chose not to respond, instead looking off to the side sadly.

Minerva had only returned to the school about 30 minutes prior. She had spent the day at St. Mungo's, recovering from the numerous stunning spells that Ministry officials had sent her way the day before. He couldn't imagine she was benefitting from the stress of their current predicament right now, but she had wanted to be here so she would know the children were safe.

Suddenly, Luna Lovegood and Dedalus Diggle appeared in the fireplace, with the latter clutching Ron Weasley.

"The others have gone ahead, but we happened to come across these two in the Brain Room." Dedalus explained, stepping forwards into the infirmary. "This one is a little out of sorts." He said, motioning his head towards Weasley.

"Ron!" Molly shouted, running towards him. "What happened to him?" She cried.

"One of the Death Eaters cursed him when they were chasing us." Lovegood supplied, "I believe he summoned the brain himself." She said, eyeing her friend worriedly. "I think Hermione did something to stop it, but I was too busy to see which spell she used."

"Hey… this is Hogwarts! Mum, Dad! You don't go here… why are you here…?" Ron said, bemused.

"I'll see to him straight away, don't you worry." Poppy said in a no-nonsense voice. "I'll be able to get this thing off him, but I can't promise it won't scar." She said apprehensively, leading the disorientated boy over to an empty bed. His parents followed her dutifully, very much concerned for their son.

Severus moved his attention to the Ravenclaw girl in front of him. "May I ask what in Merlin's beard possessed you to take on an army of Death Eaters?" He sneered derisively, his lip curling.

"Harry was adamant about going - we could hardly stand by and let him go alone. He needed us!" She reasoned.

"So instead of restraining Potter, you decided the best course of action would be to conduct a suicide mission?" He said scathingly, looking the silly chit up and down.

"Severus please!" Minerva said, shooting him a scolding look. "She's been through enough tonight." He watched on with great irritation as Minerva walked over to the girl and fussed over her, sitting her down to check if she was okay. Dedalus joined the pair as he waited for the others to arrive.

Severus leant against the end of a hospital bed, gripping the railing of the footboard to support his weight. He stayed that way for a long time, staring off into the large window opposite him. Getting uncomfortable, he moved to perch himself on the side of the bed, where he sat for a further 25 minutes. He was trying to quell the increasing feeling of unease in his gut. _It shouldn't be taking this long_ , he thought to himself.

A short while later he was broken out of his reverie by the sound of the fireplace lighting up. _Finally,_ he thought to himself. Lupin walked out, supporting the bodies of Longbottom and the youngest Weasley. "I believe they've only been stunned." He said wincing, clearly struggling to move under their weight.

Severus heard Molly breathe a loud sigh of relief at the sight of her daughter. Arthur dashed forward to help take Ginny from Lupin's hands, as Dedalus took hold of Longbottom. Both children were laid down on beds.

"What took so long?" Severus demanded, standing up.

"I'm not sure I'm the right person to ask," Lupin answered, sounding regretful. "I've only just been revived; I was knocked out from fighting Bellatrix." _That would explain why he looks so tired,_ Severus thought to himself.

"It's over now then? The fighting?" Minerva asked.

"Yes. Yes, I believe so." Lupin nodded.

Arthur must have revived his daughter, as Ginny suddenly spoke. "What happened – where is everyone?" She asked, sitting up. Her voice was hoarse. "Where's Harry? Is he okay – she was torturing him. The last thing I saw – that woman – Bellatrix – she was using the cruciatus curse on him. Where is he?" She said frantically, looking around the room in a panic.

"The cruciatus curse?" Minerva echoed back in disbelief.

The adults in the room exchanged a nervous glance with each other. "They're bringing everyone back right now Ginny. I'm sure Harry is just fine." Arthur said, trying to soothe her as he stroked her head.

The fireplace lit up a third time; it was Mad-Eye holding an unconscious Tonks.

"Alastor – is it true? Was Potter attacked with the cruciatus?" Minerva asked brusquely.

"It's not Harry you need to worry about." He answered gruffly, roughly depositing Tonks onto a spare bed. "He's at least making it through the night."

"What do you mean?" Lupin asked, his eyebrows knitting together.

A sickening realisation dawned on Severus – the only other teenager left unaccounted for was Granger. _Please no,_ he thought to himself as his heartrate quickened. _Not her._

Before Mad-Eye had the chance to answer however, the fireplace lit up again. It was Sirius, fighting against a struggling Harry.

"TAKE ME BACK – TAKE ME BACK NOW!" Potter shouted at his godfather, tears streaking down his cheeks. Severus was alarmed at the state of his bloodstained clothes.

Black gripped Potter's shoulders. "You need to listen to me Harry, there is _nothing_ you or I can do for her now. Dumbledore has her, you need to trust him." He said firmly, trying to calm the hysterical boy.

"She can't-" Potter whispered, choking on his words, "She can't die. Not because of me, she _can't_." He sobbed, his knees buckling in his state of distress. Black supported his weight, helping to keep him on his feet.

The air felt thinner as Severus' stomach tightened into ropes. They were talking about _her._ "What happened to Granger?" He barked.

Black turned to look at him, his face having drained of all its colour. "Bellatrix… she hit Hermione. The blood," He continued, looking like he was going to be sick. "There was so much blood…"

There was a long stretch of total silence. Nobody in the room knew what to say. It was Arthur who spoke first, timidly asking, "Is she… is she alive?" Hearing it acknowledged, Severus felt frozen. Dread crept down his spine as he waited for an answer.

"Barely." Mad-Eye spoke, his voice grim. Severus released the breath he had not realised he had been holding. It was hardly good news, but it at least held promise.

The fireplace lit up again, the green flames subsiding to reveal Kingsley's frame. "We need to clear this area. If you do not need medical treatment, then I must ask you step outside." He commanded.

"Excuse me – this is _my_ infirmary!" Poppy protested.

"Dumbledore's orders." Kingsley explained bluntly. "Snape – you're well acquainted with the Dark Arts; you should stay." He said, locking eyes with him. Severus nodded curtly, bracing himself for what he was about to be greeted with.

Soon the only people left behind were Kingsley, Poppy, and himself. Ron Weasley, Longbottom, and Tonks remained in their beds, all still needing to be seen to.

Dumbledore swiftly appeared in the fireplace, clutching the limp, bloodied body of Granger. Stepping into the room he said, "We need to be quick. Kingsley placed a stasis charm on her injuries, but if we don't act now I fear it won't hold long enough." He gently placed her down on the closest hospital bed.

Severus strode towards them, desperate to see how severe the damage was. "Do we know what spell she was hit with?" He asked.

Kingsley shook his head, "It was non-verbal. The light was purple though, if that helps."

Once he had reached her bedside, he was horrified with the sight that welcomed him. The top she was wearing had been burned on the impact of the spell, exposing the large gash on her shoulder. The laceration appeared to be deep, but he wouldn't be able to get a clear look at it in her current state. The metallic scent of her blood permeated the air; it smelt like an abattoir. Her hair was matted in bloodied clumps. Almost completely soaked through, her once light cotton t-shirt was now a deep crimson. Kingsley must have timed his stasis charm well, as she looked to be on the verge of bleeding out.

"I believe this is beyond my capability." Poppy whispered breathlessly from his side.

"You're experienced with dark curses Severus, surely there's something you can do to help the girl?" Dumbledore asked him. It was true, he had devoted much of his time to extensively researching the Dark Arts – it was a passion of his. Unlike many who shared an interest in the subject however, he had made a point to learn how to counter such magic through healing charms and remedial potions. This was where his knowledge exceeded most.

"It's too soon to say. I'll need to clean her first so I can get a closer look at her injuries. Healing her could take a while." He said, looking up at Dumbledore. He nodded firmly and asked for Poppy to return to her other patients. To give Severus some space, Kingsley sat down on a nearby bed, watching Granger with concern.

Severus cast a cleansing charm on her body to remove the congealed blood, before going on to vanish her t-shirt. There was a gaping puncture just off to the side of her right shoulder. Blackened veins covered her mangled flesh, travelling outwards from the wound into the centre of her chest and down her upper right arm. Her skin had already taken on the pallor of a corpse, the infected area mottled with varying shades of purple.

After several rounds of diagnostic spells, he still couldn't be entirely certain what the incantation was. It was probable that it was something of Bellatrix's own creation. He surmised that the dark magic was present in the event of someone tending to the injury as if it were an ordinary wound. If someone had simply sealed the open gash, then the curse would still be in Granger's bloodstream, slowly spreading to infect her organs.

He got to work extracting the dark magic from her body. He needed to act swiftly as he did not know how much time he had until the stasis charm wore off; they could be entirely unpredictable when cast on people. It was imperative that when this happened, Granger would be in a stable condition. Otherwise, she could very well die tonight – which was _not_ an option.

Severus worked tirelessly for over two hours, meticulously removing the curse that had entwined itself with her body. Once finished, he beckoned Poppy over and she started to tend to the injury itself, slowly stitching the skin back together. Dumbledore and Kingsley had long since left the Hospital Wing, instead needing to tend to the mess that had been forsaken in the wake of the battle. His own work was still far from over, Granger would need to take remedial potions for the next two weeks to ensure there was no chance of infection, or any traces of dark magic lingering.

She would need her first dose by tomorrow morning, so he would be spending his night brewing on her behalf. _At least she's going to be okay,_ he thought to himself. With the injuries that she had sustained, it was remarkable that Granger had even been alive when she had been delivered to him.

* * *

Late the following night Severus found himself back by Granger's bedside, delivering the potions that she would need to take for the following day. He had returned from a Death Eater meeting only a little over an hour before and had headed straight here after his briefing with Dumbledore.

It went without saying that the Dark Lord was livid at the performance of those closest to him, Bellatrix especially. The serpentine man had not been forgiving when it was revealed that she had been holding the prophecy in her hand when it smashed.

At first Severus found it satisfying to see her being abused at the Dark Lord's hand, writhing around on the floor in agony. However, witnessing her being tortured for over two hours straight eventually made for uncomfortable viewing. He did not doubt that her punishment only continued after his departure from Malfoy Manor. He imagined that the only reason she had not been killed tonight was because of her history of devotion to their master.

She had not been the only person to suffer. Lucius Malfoy, Rabastan Lestrange, and Rodolphus Lestrange had all managed to escape the Ministry with her and were viewed as almost as culpable as she. They too were punished by his wrath.

Antonin Dolohov, Walden Macnair, Phillip Crabbe, Henry Avery, Augustus Rookwood, Eldric Mulciber, and Ephraim Nott had all been captured by aurors in the aftermath of the fight. Morton Jugson had been the only fatality.

The recounted tale of events had shone light on just how active Granger's role had been in the battle. Severus knew that the girl was competent at fighting, but he had underestimated her nerve. She had shot arrows at Avery and had successfully cast a dark hex to melt Dolohov's bones. It didn't surprise him that Avery had fallen in the fight, but Dolohov was a skilled wizard. He had very much needed to utilise his occlumency this evening to mask his emotions, it had been challenging to not express his shock.

Granger had also been responsible for the head injury that subsequently lead to Jugson's death – although he suspected that this was entirely unintentional. Severus had not shared this detail with Dumbledore, allowing him to believe the man had been caught in the crossfire of spells. If Granger wished to confess then that would be her prerogative; he would not strip her of her choice.

The killing had been an accident amid a fight, where she had needed to defend herself and her friends. Severus had certainly killed under less honourable circumstances. He admired that when it had been necessary, she had been ruthless. He knew she had expressed an interest in learning more about the Dark Arts, but he had never expected her to display an affinity for performing them.

Unfortunately, her behaviour in the Department of Mysteries had singled her out in his master's mind. Originally he was curious about the girl, appreciating how she had fought dirty – it wasn't how the Order normally played. However, he had become incensed when he had learned of her blood status. Severus had informed Dumbledore that a target had now been placed upon her, and that she could very well be killed if allowed to return to her parental home this summer.

He sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face. Nobody else was around in the Hospital Wing. It was nearing 1am, and so Poppy had long retired for the night. Granger was fast asleep in front of him, entirely unaware of his presence. Dumbledore had told him that she had awoken earlier in the day, and whilst in pain, appeared to be recovering well.

For his own piece of mind, Severus cast a basic diagnostic spell on her so he could read her vitals. Her heart rate, body temperature, and blood pressure were all healthy. It was a welcome change to the condition she had been in the previous night. Scanning the information in front of him, his eyes drifted to where the spell told him her age. It said that she was 6903 days old. Severus' brows furrowed as he calculated what that number would be when divided into years. _She's nearly 19…_ He realised in disbelief, allowing the revelation to sink in.

When she had confessed to him that she had been travelling backwards in time it had never occurred to him that she would be as much as even a year older, let alone more than two. _That explains why she stood out so starkly against her friends, she's four years older than Ginny Weasley – three years older than Potter._ Severus sighed as he watched her sleeping form. _What have you done, Granger?_

Throughout the year, she had continued to surprise him. The perception he held of her last summer was drastically different to what he understood of her now. A year ago, she was nothing more than an inconvenience – someone who was slightly less irritating than initially believed.

The first time he had invited her into his rooms he had thought of her as innocent, overzealous, and on the brink of being caught up in something larger than she could comprehend; a begrudging friend that he needed to look out for.

He had been far too late to help in any meaningful way, however. The girl before him was no longer an irksome, bookish child, but an intelligent young woman. Someone who was fiercely devoted to those she cared about, to a fault. A woman who had been manipulated when she was too young to know any better, raised to be a fighter.

 _Albus must be so proud,_ he thought bitterly. He placed Granger's potions on her bedside table and spun on his heel to leave the infirmary. He was too drained to think about her any longer. He needed to sleep.

* * *

Hermione awoke on Saturday 22nd June to the sound of hushed voices talking. She groggily rubbed at her eyes, before reaching over to the glass of water by her bedside to ease her dry throat.

"Ah, Miss Granger. You're awake." Dumbledore said softly, approaching her. "I'm afraid I need to have a word with you."

Although Hermione could not see Madam Pomfrey, she could hear the irritated tutting of the woman behind her bed curtain, followed by the sound of her footsteps storming off in the opposite direction.

Acknowledging her visible confusion, Dumbledore continued, "Madam Pomfrey believes you should be resting, she hasn't given her approval for us to talk." He shrugged airily.

Dumbledore had already visited her the day before, when she had first woken up following the aftermath of the battle. He had walked her through everything that had happened during the time she had been asleep; explaining which Death Eaters were now in custody and who had escaped, in addition to telling her he had been reinstated as Headmaster. Whilst it had not been confirmed that Voldemort had returned, the presence of eight Death Eaters had cemented that there had at least been an uprising amongst his followers. It was enough to cast doubt on Cornelius Fudge's competency as Minister, and many were calling for his resignation.

Considering until yesterday Dumbledore had not spoken to her since September, Hermione had not been expecting to see him again so soon.

"Is everything okay?" She asked.

"Not quite." He frowned, pulling up a chair to sit beside her bed. "I've heard some news from Professor Snape that has caused some concern. Following Thursday's events, it's been made apparent that You-Know-Who is now familiar with your identity. As it was you who destroyed the prophecy and incapacitated a number of his followers, he may now look to punish you. As such, you will be unable to return to your parents' home this summer."

Hermione swallowed as she considered what Dumbledore was telling her. She had not anticipated that the battle would have long-term implications for her safety, although it did make sense. Despite the chaos that ensued and her own injuries, she did not regret helping Harry when he needed her.

"I understand. It's been recommended I keep my distance from them for some time now… I didn't expect to be spending the summer with them anyway." Hermione said, biting her lip.

Dumbledore paused for a moment, as if considering his next words. "Your parents' safety is something that also troubles me. If he is unable to hurt you directly, it is very much plausible that he will attack them instead."

"Mad-Eye and Tonks had told me about some of the attacks on muggles that had been swept under the rug by the Ministry… it had crossed my mind that the day could come where I would need to protect my parents." Hermione said sadly.

"Their current address is a public record; they are no longer safe staying at your home. Do you think you would be able to convince them to move to a new house?"

Hermione laughed without humour. "I can't imagine they would take too kindly to me ordering them to uproot their life. They don't even know this war exists – I didn't want to worry them." Hermione tucked her knees closer to her chest, staring at her duvet cover as she contemplated her problem.

"As a witch, there are other ways you could encourage them to change their mind." Dumbledore suggested.

"I've thought about whether I may need to use a memory charm." Hermione replied, turning to look at him. "I can't say I've had any practice on using one before, but I've read about them. I stumbled upon a chapter discussing them in a book Tonks lent me. The mind is so delicate though, I'm not sure I could ever bring myself to try one."

"It may be your best option." He said softly.

"I suppose I should brush up on my theory then." Hermione smiled; it did not reach her eyes, which were stinging with the threat of tears.

"I can arrange for some books on the matter to be dropped off to you for the remainder of your stay in the infirmary. Perhaps reading will help pass the time." He offered.

"Thank you." Hermione said. "Do you… do you think he'll act soon? What if he gets to them before I can?"

"To be frank with you, I've got no idea. Professor Snape believed the threat to be serious, but not necessarily imminent." He told her. "I noticed that your time-turner was not on your person after your injury. I trust that you still have it?"

"Yes, of course. I had taken it off as I no longer had any use for it, but it's safe." She explained.

"It may be necessary for you to revisit it, so you can reach your parents before he possibly could." He told her. "Try not to worry, we'll figure out a solution once you've healed." He added, observing her pensive expression.

Hermione did not wish to use the device again, but she could certainly make an exception for the wellbeing of her parents. Merlin knew she had used it for far less important matters.

"I should speak to you… about my time-turner," she started, spotting a window of opportunity to take the conversation off her parents, "I was wondering if it would be possible to complete my N.E.W.T.S next year? I know it's not the 'done' thing, but my age… I don't want to turn 21 the same summer I graduate." She asked, the words tumbling out.

"Yes, it had occurred to me that you're a number of years ahead of your peers." He sighed. "Perhaps it isn't something we should resent, as I dare to think of the outcome at the Ministry if you had been 16 without your training. Harry would have been much worse off." He said. _Of course, Harry_ _ **would**_ _be considered before me,_ she thought resignedly.

"I'm pleased that you don't think I've squandered the opportunities you've provided me, and I hope you don't think me ungrateful… but I don't think I can spend two more years pretending." She said, trying to be tactful.

"If I arranged for you to complete your exams next summer, would you consider undertaking an apprenticeship? You would need to speak to the professor of your preferred subject yourself, as they would need to facilitate such an arrangement, but I could put in an encouraging word."

Hermione nodded, "I wouldn't be opposed to that."

"I think it is important that you do not overlook the safety that Hogwarts can provide for you in your haste to graduate." He said pointedly. There was a small pause before he continued, "I must admit that I have found myself evaluating your position recently. After some careful consideration, I believe it may be time to enlighten the Order of your circumstances.

"Why have you changed your mind?" She asked, confused.

"A number of diagnostic spells have been cast on you recently when Kingsley and Professor Snape have been in your vicinity. It is entirely possible that they have seen your true age. In addition to this, Moody, Tonks, Sirius, and Professor McGonagall are all aware that at some point you have used a time-turner. As many members now know fragmented pieces of the truth, I believe this is the time for us to divulge the full extent of your use." He explained.

"I guess that makes sense. It's not quite the secret it was two years ago." Hermione admitted.

"Not quite." He agreed. "I _do_ trust each member of the Order. Whilst I had housed some reservations, I believe that this information will remain confidential within the confines of the organisation. Once you're healthy enough to leave Hogwarts you can return to headquarters, where you will be welcome to attend Order meetings for the first time. I shall inform members tonight, allowing everyone some time to process the news."

Hermione felt relief at the idea of being able to come clean about everything. Although she felt apprehensive about what some people might think, it would finally grant her the opportunity to put this behind her.

"Would I be able to tell Ron and Ginny? I know they're not technically in the Order, but they're my friends… it would feel wrong for their family to know, but to still lie to them." She asked.

"I think I would be able to make an exception for those two." He agreed.

* * *

A short while after Dumbledore had left, Hermione took her first potion of the day. The potions reminded her of Snape, who she knew brewed them. She also understood that he had helped to heal her. The last time she had gone to his rooms had been the previous weekend; it felt strange to know that he had seen her since, when she hadn't seen him.

She had always assumed that she would be the one to divulge her true age to him when she felt ready, yet he could very well already know. If he didn't, he would certainly be finding out soon. She couldn't help but wonder if his visits had intentionally been timed for when she was fast asleep – perhaps he had taken offence and did not wish to speak to her? After all, she had purposefully made him believe she had only added a matter of months to her age – not years.

However, that train of thought needed to be suppressed. Right now, she needed to focus on how she was going to prevent something awful from happening to her parents. In her mind she played out a multitude of different scenarios, imagining how they would respond to her trying to help them.

* * *

It was late Sunday 30th June and Hermione was sat in the Hospital Wing curled up in a chair by one of the large windows, looking out into the night sky. She was idly touching her tender shoulder, which had been bandaged up. The student body had gone home the day before, but she wouldn't be able to leave until it had been two weeks since the battle. Madam Pomfrey wanted her to remain under medical supervision until she had completed her course of remedial potions.

Her friends wouldn't be leaving until the following morning as it had been deemed too unsafe for them to travel back on the Hogwarts Express. Harry, Ron and Ginny would be taking a portkey to headquarters, whereas Neville and Luna would be taking one to their respective homes.

Madam Pomfrey operated strict visiting hours, meaning it had been a lonely stay in the infirmary so far. When her friends were able to see her, they all came together. Therefore, Hermione had not been able to speak to Ron, Ginny, and Harry alone. She still needed to tell them about her time travel and her induction into the Order.

On the upside, the lack of distractions had meant that she had been able to make good headway in studying memory charms. Her days had become dreadfully monotonous, but she felt comfort in knowing there was less than a week left until she could return to headquarters.

She still couldn't help but wonder whether Snape was avoiding her, since she had not seen him since her injury. On two occasions he had even sent a house-elf to deliver her potions in his stead. Logic told her that even if he had visited, they could hardly behave familiar with one another. She tried to tell herself that because of this, his absence didn't matter.

Hermione was startled by the sound of the Hospital Wing doors being roughly pushed open. Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall came walking through, heading straight towards her.

Standing up from her chair she asked, "Is everything okay?"

"You may wish you had stayed seated for this, Miss Granger." McGonagall said ruefully.

"We've just been made aware of some news that you may find distressing." Dumbledore clarified.

Hermione's stomach dropped, her head immediately jumping to the worst conclusion. "My parents – they're okay aren't they? Nothing has happened to them?" She asked, sounding panicked.

"Yes. They're unharmed." McGonagall answered quickly, reassuring her.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. "What happened then?"

"Your family home was attacked by Death Eaters tonight. Professor Snape has informed us that your parents were not home at the time of the attack, and as such we assume that they are safe." Dumbledore answered.

"Your home… I'm afraid it was burned. Aurors were sent to the scene, but the flames had fully engulfed the house before they got there. It was unsalvageable." McGonagall said apologetically.

"Professor Snape informed me that the home appeared to have been untouched for some time. Most of the house was bare, with very few belongings left behind at the property." Dumbledore explained.

"Do you think… you suggested last week that I should… did I use it?" Hermione asked, hinting at her time-turner.

McGonagall pursed her lips. "Time travel would explain why the house had seemingly been unoccupied for a while." Hermione internally noted that her head of house looked uncomfortable discussing the matter.

"I suppose I'll be turning back then." Hermione said, sounding disappointed.

"I know it's not the ideal solution." Dumbledore frowned.

"It _is_ a solution though. Securing my parents' safety is important to me." Hermione said with a firm nod, straightening her shoulders.

"I'm sure you understand, but we won't be able to go back with you. We can however outline a strategy with you, so when you turn back you feel prepared." McGonagall offered, placing a comforting hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"Thank you. I would appreciate that." Hermione smiled.

"Would you be willing to stay up tonight so we can begin planning?" Dumbledore asked.

Hermione nodded in agreement. Soon, the three were sat around a table McGonagall had transfigured from three chairs. They began to brainstorm a plan of action for her to rescue her parents, mapping out a timeline that she could follow.


	16. Chapter 16

The following day Hermione was in the Hospital Wing with Ginny, Ron, and Harry. Moments before they had said their goodbyes to Luna and Neville, who were now on their way to the Great Hall to travel by portkey to their homes. Soon, Hermione would be doing just the same for them; they had approximately 40 minutes left until they had to leave too. As she was still unable to leave the infirmary, her friends had agreed to say their goodbyes here.

It was weighing on Hermione that she still needed to talk to them about her time-turner, her age, and her induction into the Order. She tuned out the conversation the three of them were having between themselves and walked over to a nearby chair. Sitting down, she told herself that if she didn't tell them now then she wouldn't be granted another opportunity until after she had seen her parents.

She wasn't sure how long she had been sat there musing about how exactly she should break the news when Ron asked, "Everything okay 'Mione?" He smiled lopsidedly, walking over to her. Harry and Ginny followed. They took seats of their own, the four now sitting together in a circle.

Hermione anxiously chewed her lip before answering vaguely, "Kind of, kind of not." As her friends exchanged a confused look with one another, she took a deep breath in to steady herself for the conversation that needed to come. "I need to talk to you all about something… and I don't know how you're going to take it."

"Whatever it is, I'm sure it's fine." Ginny said soothingly. Harry and Ron nodded enthusiastically, agreeing with the young redhead.

Hermione quickly cast a Muffliato charm to protect herself from any eavesdroppers. "Ron… when Sirius was taken into custody, and Harry and I were with you in here, do you remember seeing us disappear? It wasn't for very long, and afterwards we came running back through those doors?"

Ron's eyebrows knitted together. "Yes, you _both_ told me that you didn't know what I was talking about. I assumed I was just high on pain medication or something."

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, as Hermione winced sheepishly. "Well, you didn't imagine it… we used a time-turner to go back and rescue Sirius. I was given one at the start of that year so I could take the full curriculum of classes."

"You had a _time-turner?_ " Ginny asked in disbelief.

"You _both_ went back in time and didn't tell me?!" Ron demanded loudly, looking between her and Harry.

"It wasn't quite that simple-" Harry started, trying to defend the two of them.

"I can't believe that you two kept this from me for _two_ years!" He interrupted angrily, not caring for Harry's excuse.

"I didn't have a choice! I wasn't _allowed_ to tell you!" Hermione cried.

"So what's different now, why are you telling us?" Ginny huffed, crossing her arms.

"Because I don't want to lie to you anymore!" Hermione exclaimed.

Hermione proceeded to summarise exactly what had transpired with her time-turner since the end of her third year. She told them how she had turned 17 in the May of her fourth year, and trained underneath Mad-Eye later that summer. She explained that she had met with Tonks and Mad-Eye up until April this year and why that had been necessary, in addition to admitting that she had brewed for Snape so she would have a cover-up for her whereabouts. Finally, she confessed that it had been agreed between her and Dumbledore that she would be graduating at the end of next year, and that she would be officially attending her very first Order of the Phoenix meeting this weekend.

"So, how old are you now?" Ron spat, unimpressed with her.

"I'll be turning 19 soon." She answered. Ginny shook her head in disbelief, almost as angry as her older brother.

"Are you still using it? This time-turner?" Ron asked. Hermione nodded.

There was a long stretch of uncomfortable silence.

"Can someone please say something?" Hermione pleaded.

"What do you expect us to say 'Mione? You've been lying to us for years." Ron snapped, throwing his hands up incredulously.

"Not by choice!" She argued.

"You _always_ have a choice!" Ginny told her.

"I told you all as soon as I could! Do you think I've enjoyed keeping this to myself?" She retorted, starting to feel her own temper flare. She couldn't understand why Ginny and Ron were being so obstinate.

"Oh, poor you! How difficult it must be, graduating _and_ joining the Order early. What a terrible life you lead!" Ron said sarcastically.

"Alright, lay off mate. It's hardly early if she's 18." Harry chimed in, taking Hermione's side.

"You _would_ defend her – you've been in on this since the beginning!" Ron said, waggling his finger at Harry.

"You're being absurd! You're making it sound like we were conspiring against you!" Hermione said derisively, pressing the base of her palm to her forehead to suppress an oncoming headache.

"The fact is Hermione you've been lying to us for years." Ginny said haughtily.

"Don't pretend that you would have behaved differently in my position." Hermione said, pointing her chin upwards in defiance.

"We _never_ would have lied to you." Ron said firmly. "We need to leave, we'll be late." He said, standing up.

"Late? It doesn't take 10 minutes to walk to the Great Hall!" She said crossly, standing up too. "If you're going to storm off, at least be transparent about it!"

"You're asking _me_ to be transparent? Piss off." He said churlishly, stalking out of the infirmary.

"He's got a point. I thought we were a team – Dumbledore's Army and all. I guess it was all just words for you though." Ginny shrugged, standing up to follow her brother.

"No – no that's not true!" Hermione pleaded, but Ginny did not turn around. Feeling defeated, she turned to Harry and asked, "What do you think then? Are you also angry with me?"

"I'm a little jealous you've joined the Order, but no, I'm not angry. Then again, I wasn't hearing about your time-turner for the first time today."

"I couldn't tell them… I swore to Dumbledore I wouldn't tell anyone. It was different with you – you _had_ to find out because of Sirius." She said in a small voice.

"I know that. I think they'll come around, it's just a bit of a shock for them y'know?" He said. Hermione pouted, unconvinced.

"I need to turn again this week, before I next see you." She said glumly.

"How come?"

"My parents… their house was burned down yesterday. Luckily they weren't there, but it seems like that's only because they haven't been living there for months. Dumbledore thinks I went back in time to relocate them, and so to fulfil the time loop, I need to go." She explained, chewing her lip again.

"That's terrible. I'm so sorry." Harry frowned. "What date are you going back to?"

"Saturday 23rd March – the start of the Easter holidays. My parents won't understand if I visit during term time, and that'll only serve to complicate matters."

Harry's eyes widened. "That's a long time – will you be okay?"

"Yeah, don't worry about me." She waved her hand dismissively, but her eyes betrayed her own apprehension.

The two said their goodbyes, with Hermione promising to tell Harry everything when she was back at 12 Grimmauld Place. It was only after he had left that Hermione spotted a figure in the corner of the opposite end of the Hospital Wing. Snape was stood talking to Madam Pomfrey, who had his back to him as she pottered around her workbench. Already, his gaze was fixed firmly on her, and their eyes soon locked.

They stood like that for several seconds, simply staring at each other. This was the first time she had physically seen him since the battle, and she tried to ignore the erratic beating of her heart. Snape broke the contact when Madam Pomfrey turned around to face him. She couldn't hear what was being said between the pair, but soon Snape was leaving, his heavy black robes billowing behind him.

* * *

On Thursday 4th July at around 11am Severus was in his office sorting through a stack of papers on his desk that needed filing. There was a list of mundane admin tasks such as this that he needed to complete before leaving Hogwarts for the summer break; his time had almost entirely been consumed by his spy commitments as of late. Subsequently, everything else had been placed on the backburner.

There was a knock on his office door that broke his concentration.

"It's open." He drawled.

When the old wooden door opened he found that it was not a colleague of his looking to pester him, but in fact Granger.

"Sorry to disturb you, but Madam Pomfrey said I could be discharged early if I collected my last potion from you." She said courteously as she allowed the door to close behind her.

"Right, yes." He said, caught off guard by her presence. "It's just in my quarters." Granger nodded.

He walked into his rooms and turned around to talk to her, only to realise that she had not followed him. He stared at the door for a moment, assuming she must be lagging behind, but soon deduced that apparently she had no intention of coming in.

Frowning, he walked back over to the door and opened it to pop his head through. "Are you planning on staying in here?"

"Yes, why wouldn't I?" She answered, narrowing her eyes.

Standing in the doorframe, he crossed his arms. "I see. I didn't realise you _only_ wanted to get your potion."

"I wasn't aware I was welcome for anything more." She said, her voice prickly.

"Whatever gave you that impression?" He asked, confused. She had been frequenting his quarters for months now, he didn't understand why she had figured that their agreement had changed.

"You've not spoken to me for weeks." She glared.

Severus raised his eyebrows. "Did you expect me to pull up a chair and sit by your bedside? I think some questions may have been raised." He sneered.

"No!" She said, rolling her eyes exasperatedly. "It just would have been nice for you to have asked how I was – even if nothing more was said. If that was too much, you could have at least bothered to deliver _one_ of the potions directly to me. I don't think anyone would have considered that improper."

Severus clenched his jaw. He knew that he could have visited her more than he had, but truthfully he had wanted some time to process what was going on. Granger had been a point of conversation amongst the Order _and_ the Death Eaters for the last fortnight, and he hadn't been granted a day where he could switch off thinking about her. Even on the rare occasion he wasn't being forced to talk about her, he _still_ couldn't get her off his mind.

He would close his eyes at night and struggle to think of anything other than her bloodied body that night she returned from the Ministry, and how scared he had been at the prospect of her dying. He didn't have a weak stomach. He was _used_ to seeing the macabre – it came with the territory of being a Death Eater – he just wasn't used to associating such sights with _her_. It was a point of personal pride that he could keep a handle on his emotions, but lately thoughts of Granger had practically consumed him.

He was trying to make heads or trails of her real age, her official induction into the Order, and the news that she would be graduating within a year. He felt conflicted – on one hand he was pleased that she was an adult, it made him feel _much_ better about their impropriety this year. It allowed him to reason that he never would have befriended her if she had still been a child; she would have been too immature.

On the other hand, he felt complicit in failing her. As her teacher he was responsible for safeguarding her, and yet he had allowed her to pass through the school being manipulated by her Headmaster. He wished that he had noticed sooner, that he hadn't waited for her to personally admit to what was going on. In hindsight, he would have stood his ground when he originally questioned Albus. He would have been firm in voicing his suspicions.

Finally, he hated that she had lied to him. Her confession had been meaningful to Severus. She had chosen _him_ to confide in at a time where she felt like she couldn't talk to anyone, a time when Albus had forbidden her from doing so. He knew it shouldn't matter, but he liked being important to her. However, learning the full extent of her time travel had cheapened this. Furthermore, she hadn't even mentioned her intentions of graduating early – he had to be enlightened during an Order meeting. Clearly he had misunderstood the extent of their friendship.

"My apologies." He said through gritted teeth. "Now will you come in?" He asked impatiently, gesturing his hand in the direction of his rooms.

Granger glowered at him, and Severus momentarily wondered if she would refuse him. Fortunately, she conceded and made her way into his rooms. He didn't outwardly show it, but he felt relieved.

"I should say – thank you for healing me." She said, turning around to face him. "From what I hear, I wouldn't still be here if it wasn't for you."

"You can show your appreciation by never putting yourself in that position again." He said sternly. "Would you like a cup of tea?" He offered, walking over to his kitchenette.

She nodded. "I can't stay long, but I should have time to finish one."

Severus quirked his brow at this. "Really? That excited to get back to headquarters?" He asked as he started to prepare their drinks.

She bit her lip. "I've got to head somewhere else first." He shot her a questioning look, and she elaborated, "My parents, I need to make sure they're safe."

He winced. "I'm sorry about your home." He had been one of the Death Eaters responsible for burning it down.

When he had been given the mission to go to her family home on Sunday he had felt sick. As the most senior Death Eater on location that night he would have had little choice but to hurt her parents if they had been there. Otherwise, he would have risked exposing his true loyalties. It had come as a huge relief when it was realised they were long gone. The house had been deserted – it was dusty with no furniture, and only a handful of knick-knacks had been left behind. He couldn't imagine Granger would have been forgiving if any harm had come to them at his hand.

"Were you – were you there?" She asked, her voice wavering.

"I didn't have a say." He explained.

"I get it… I just wanted to know. Dumbledore said you believed the house had been deserted, so I've been wondering if you'd seen it for yourself."

"I'm afraid so." There was a stretch of silence as he removed the teabags from their drinks and brought them over to the coffee table. "Are they not already safe? If they weren't at your home?" He queried.

"Hopefully. They should be living somewhere overseas right now; I just need to turn back to make the arrangements." She said sadly, taking a seat on one of the sofas. He sat down beside her.

"You're reacquainting yourself with that time-turner of yours then?" He asked softly.

"Yeah." She said, biting her lip once more.

"How far back will you go?"

"Late March."

Severus was quiet. He _wanted_ to tell her that it was reckless to turn back by anything more than a few hours, that the further back she went the more hazardous the journey was. Although, he imagined she already knew this if she had been regularly using a time-turner for five years without detriment to herself. He didn't want to seem callous by suggesting that her parents weren't worth the risk.

"You'll have turned 19 then by the next time I see you." He said, choosing to instead acknowledge her age.

Granger cringed. "Yes, that's correct."

"Why did you lie?" He asked bluntly.

"It wasn't my intention to. Besides, really it was more an omission of the truth than an outright lie." Severus glared at her, not accepting this technicality. Sighing, she continued, "I felt embarrassed. I knew I'd overused it, and I didn't want you to think less of me. When you guessed my age, I just thought it would be easier to go along with it, at least for that moment. I always _planned_ on telling you eventually. I wanted to be the one to tell you." She said sadly.

"Okay." He said. He knew her reasoning was fair, but it didn't takeaway from the reality that she had chosen not to tell him.

"That's it? You're just going to say 'okay'?"

"Yes."

Granger sighed. "Did Dumbledore tell you?"

"No. I noticed when I carried out a diagnostic spell on you."

"Dumbledore thought that was possible. It's why it was decided that we should come clean about my time-turner, he figured so many people knew half-truths that it negated the benefits of keeping it secret."

"At least something positive came from your injuries, I suppose." He said. "How is your shoulder?"

"It doesn't hurt anymore."

"May I see?"

She unzipped her muggle hoodie and shrugged out of it, letting it fall from her shoulders. She was left in a pale pink vest top, which exposed her chest and arms. The scar tissue was red and angry. Jagged, thick and raised, it covered the expanse of her shoulder, sitting just beneath her collarbone.

Severus ghosted his fingertips along her marred skin. "I'm glad you heeded my word and stopped wearing your time-turner needlessly. That curse would have broken it, and I dread to think what would have happened to you if the sand had made its way into your bloodstream."

"I hadn't thought of that." She frowned, looking unsettled at the idea.

"If you wish, I can give you a cream that will help fade that scar. It's your choice." He offered.

"Is it likely to actually work?"

"Considering it's a recipe of my own, yes." He said matter-of-factly.

Granger raised her eyebrows and tried to suppress a smile. "You're not a very humble man, are you?"

He smirked. "I see no purpose in soft-pedalling my expertise." After a moment's pause, he continued, "Besides, I wouldn't make something for you if I believed it to be a waste of time."

"You… you've made it for _me?_ " She asked, wrinkling her nose in confusion.

"I thought you might appreciate it." He said stony-faced. He shifted further away from her, feeling self-conscious.

"I do… I just didn't expect it. Thank you." Her face softened into a pleasant smile. Severus felt himself relax.

He watched her tilt her body so she could see past him to look at the clock on the wall. "Oh. It's getting late, I really must get going." She said, sounding disappointed. It was 12:05pm.

"Oh? You didn't drink your tea. Are you sure you don't want to cast a warming charm so you can finish it?" He didn't want her to leave just yet and was beginning to regret not talking to her sooner.

"I really don't think that's wise. I'm sorry, it's just I've got a bit of a journey to make." She said apologetically.

"I see. Well, let me get your potion and that cream." He stood up and walked over to his cabinet to collect them. Granger started to put her hoodie back on.

"When are you returning to headquarters?" He asked, offering both items to her.

"Later today." She said, taking them from him.

"I suppose I'll see you Saturday then."

She smiled weakly, the expression bearing more resemblance to a grimace.

"Is everything okay?" He asked, furrowing his brow. Did she not wish to see him?

"Yeah," She answered, her voice soft. "It's just… funny how time can work."

Briefly, Severus had forgotten that she would be travelling back in time. What would be two days for him would be three months for her.

"I wasn't thinking… I apologise. I hope everything works out how you want it to." He frowned.

Granger forced a laugh. "Yes, I hope so too. If I don't manage to move them then they're not only in danger, but I won't complete the time loop – and I don't really want to think about the consequences of _that._ "

"I'm sorry there's nothing I can do to help." He reached forward to place his hand on her left shoulder, knowing the words were inadequate. "Please stay safe." He said, punctuating his sentence by squeezing her shoulder.

In a move that surprised him, she closed the distance between them and threw her arms around him. She wasn't quite tall enough to comfortably reach his shoulders, so she held his middle. It took him a second to react, but he welcomed the contact and returned her touch.

Not too long ago he would have pushed her away, but it felt different now; something had shifted. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to savour this moment as his chin came to rest on top of her head. Gratitude washed through him as he thought of how easily this could have been snatched from him only two weeks prior.

* * *

Taking a deep breath in, Hermione rapped on the bright red door of her family home and braced herself for an answer. After she left Snape's rooms she had headed straight here. She walked to Hogsmeade, apparated to a secluded alleyway not far from her house and turned back in time to 23rd March. As expected, she had been sick on her arrival. Between her upset stomach and mounting anxiety over what she needed to do during her visit, she was feeling rather fragile at the moment.

Her other self in this time had already written to her parents informing them that she would be remaining at Hogwarts for the duration of the Easter holiday. She was hoping that due to it being a Saturday at least one of her parents would be home – she didn't fancy standing out here for hours because they weren't expecting her arrival.

Just as she raised her arm to knock for a second time the door opened to reveal her father.

"Hermione?" He asked, looking very confused.

"Dad!" She smiled, flinging her arms around his shoulders. "I know I'd said I wouldn't be here, but I woke up feeling home sick this morning and I just thought: why not?" She explained into the crook of his neck.

"How did you get here though? It's a long way to travel by yourself." He questioned once she had taken a step back, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Oh, us magic folk have more efficient ways of travelling. I wouldn't want to bore you by explaining it." She said dismissively, shrugging her shoulders breezily. "Is Mum in?" She asked, peering behind him as if she would suddenly appear in the hallway.

"I'm afraid she's working today. She'll be very pleased to hear you're back though." He said, stepping aside to allow his daughter into the house.

"Oh good! I wasn't sure if you would mind me being here. I know it's not what we had planned…" Hermione trailed off.

"Of course not, Dear. You know you're always welcome here." He smiled warmly, playfully ruffling the top of her head.

Hermione's heart sank at his words. After careful consideration between Dumbledore, McGonagall, and herself it was agreed that her most viable option was to use a false memory charm. Depending on the number of layers used, they weren't terribly difficult to perform, but they could be tricky to reverse. Dumbledore had assured her though that help would be available to her once it was safe for them to remember again.

If everything went to plan then they would soon be operating under the belief that their names were Monica and Wendall Wilkins, a couple with a strong desire to move somewhere abroad – anywhere far away from Britain. The catch though was that she couldn't risk them remembering who she was. Even if she falsified a backstory for herself it could still endanger them. For the duration of the war they could have no contact with each other; she _needed_ to ensure they couldn't be traced.

Within the fortnight her parents would no longer know who she was, and she would be living by herself in an Order of the Phoenix safehouse biding her time until July. She had been assured that the location was sheltered, and she wouldn't be sighted by anyone that could possibly know who she was. In other words, she would be living in the middle of nowhere for the better part of three months.

She couldn't be seen by neighbours to be living in her house right up until the Death Eater attack. If they decided to start asking the neighbourhood questions about where her parents had gone she couldn't chance them revealing that she had been in two places at once.

Importantly, living in the safehouse would mean she would have a place to stay rent free. Whilst her parents grant her a generous allowance, she would not receive any more money once she was forgotten to them. She had enough money to cover her living costs for the next three months but affording rent or a room in a hotel for that long simply wasn't feasible.

"How about I put the kettle on?" Her Dad asked walking around her, heading in the direction of the kitchen.

"Ooo, a coffee sounds lovely. Thank you." Hermione said, forcing a cheerful voice. She willed herself to distract her mind from what she soon needed to do, and instead attempted to focus on enjoying the next couple of days with just her and her parents. Once their memories had been altered it could be years before she would have the opportunity to spend time with them again.

* * *

On Wednesday 1st May Hermione was sat cross-legged on her living room floor sorting out her parents' belongings. It had been approximately a month since she had erased herself from their memories and forged new identities for them. She had been meticulous in her detail, down to forging new passports and other forms of ID for them.

She had apparated here directly from the safehouse to avoid being seen. The curtains in the home remained firmly shut, and she only ever visited in the daytime to avoid even her shadow being spotted.

In the end, the country she had selected for her parents to move to was Canada. Her mum had been watching one of her usual property programmes the evening she had altered their memories, and the episode that aired that night featured a couple relocating to Canada. Often such programmes inspired her mum to announce that she 'always' wanted to visit whichever country was being featured, and that evening had been no exception.

The country fitted Hermione's criteria: it was faraway, and her parents had never visited there before. They also had a passable understanding of French, so she figured it would be a good fit for them regardless of the region they chose to settle in. She had to keep telling herself that they would enjoy their new life there – it was the only way to suppress some of her guilt.

Their memories had been altered in such a way that they believed the house they owned was actually a rented property. In order to prompt them to move out a little faster, Hermione had posed as Jean and Graham Granger – who Monica and Wendall believed were their landlords – to write an eviction notice. The reason supplied to them was that they wished to return to living in the property themselves. Her Dad had interpreted this as a 'sign' that they were destined to live in Canada. Within three weeks they had packed up their belongings and had headed off on their way.

Now, Hermione had the task of methodically going through each thing that had been left behind, which was predominately furniture. She was shrinking each item and placing it in a storage box for safekeeping. She couldn't imagine her parents would appreciate allowing them to abandon their possessions, especially as anything still here in June would be burned to a crisp.

Each time she felt the tell-tale sting of tears she had to remind herself that this _wasn't_ permanent, that there _would_ be someone in the Order who could one day help her get her parents back. This was just a temporary safety measure, and she had done the right thing.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I'm not too sure why, but writing this chapter moved fairly slow. I hope you all enjoy and are doing well. Please let me know your thoughts.
> 
> As always, a huge thanks to those that subscribe, bookmark, leave reviews and kudos!

It was Thursday 16th May and it had been exactly three weeks since Hermione's parents had vacated for Canada. The previous day she had finally finished sorting through her family home and gathering together everything that hadn't been taken abroad with her parents. Anything that Hermione had determined was junk had been left behind at the property. She figured it was being burned anyway, so there was no need to trouble herself with additional work.

The only loose knot that needed tying up was sorting through any paperwork in her parents' name. She had already taken care of the obvious by writing a letter to their dental practice to inform the other partners that due to unforeseen circumstances they would be moving away. Although she imagined it had been a rather frustrating read for their colleagues, she had no choice but to keep the letter vague in case this information was ever traced by Voldemort's followers.

She was sat at the kitchen table in the safehouse enjoying her morning coffee. The interior decoration of the small cottage was like a time capsule into the 70s – the kitchen being no exception. The countertops and cabinets were a cream laminate, with a garish yellow backsplash separating them. The walls were painted a creamsicle orange, and the flooring was a terracotta tile. The kitchen table was a cheap chipboard imitation of oak, which had been covered with a yellow wipe-clean tablecloth bedecked with tiny white flowers.

The safehouse was in sleepy Alkham, a scenic village not far from Dover. It was surrounded by long stretches of fields, with the nearest shop being a 25-minute walk away. Occasionally Hermione was graced with a dog walker passing through, but generally nobody came this way. It wasn't unusual for her to go days without seeing anybody; her only socialising came in the form of small talk with the cashier at her local grocer.

To take her mind away from her parents, Hermione had decided that today she would work on preparing a proposal for an apprenticeship. Over the last few weeks she had thought about which N.E.W.T subject she would be interested in specialising in. Herbology, Charms, and Transfiguration had quickly been dismissed. She enjoyed these subjects because they were practical and she got on well with her professors, but the content didn't fascinate her.

After some careful thought she had determined that taking Ancient Runes was too niche, especially as she didn't fancy a career in translation. Following this, she then ruled out Potions. Whilst she had done a significant amount of brewing for Madam Pomfrey this year, these were all potions that were covered up to N.E.W.T level. She found the practice therapeutic, but she couldn't envision herself becoming a healer or potions mistress.

Hermione was tempted by DADA. Out of all of her options this was where she had done the most further reading, _and_ she already had a rough idea of what she could research for her final essay. Occlumency is a defensive strategy, and in her efforts to learn the basics she already had a prepared foundation to build her studies upon. Unfortunately, this choice was complicated by the fact she did not yet know who she would be pitching a proposal to, and the odds of the appointed professor lasting longer than a year were slim.

The final possibility was Arithmancy. This had been her favourite subject since starting it in her third year, and importantly it led to a diverse range of career paths. It would certainly look impressive on a university application, and its disciplines translated into many branches of magic. It could be a feasible option for her, particularly as she had a good relationship with Professor Vector. The downside was that she was stuck on an idea for an essay on the topic.

Believing it best to keep her options as broad as possible, Hermione decided to begin mapping out proposals for both DADA and Arithmancy. It was still undecided as to which was her preference, but she figured if one choice fell through, then she would have the other to fall back on. There were 7 weeks remaining until she would be able to return to headquarters, meaning there was ample time available for her to build both pitches.

* * *

On Tuesday 4th June Hermione was walking in the fields not far from the cottage. Each day she made sure she left the confines of the property in a bid to feel less like a bird in a cage. Getting in some sort of exercise – even if it was just walking for an hour – helped to clear her head, and importantly it gave her another activity to do.

An upside of living in the countryside was that she had the beauty of nature on her doorstep. Hermione's favoured route was decorated with willow trees that delicately scattered the morning sun through their leaves, the fragments bathing the dirt path with its warm glow. Summer had arrived once again, and the rolling landscape was celebrating with cornflower-blue skies and verdant hues.

When she agreed to stay here she had been so preoccupied with obsessing over her parents' safety that she hadn't once considered what it would be like to live in isolation for three months. She couldn't even have the company of Crookshanks, who had been taken by McGonagall to headquarters. It wouldn't have been safe for him to travel back in time with her, so she had no choice but to bid him farewell. At least from his perspective she would only be missing for a few days.

When she had been staying with Mad-Eye the previous summer she had thought herself terribly unlucky. His conversation had been rigid and his routine gruelling, but it had been better than nothing at all. After two months of being by herself she would leap at the chance to be back there right now.

To compensate, she found herself doing purposefully small food shops so they would only last her a couple of days. This way, she had an excuse to walk into the populated part of the village and interact with another person, even if was just an exchange of a few words.

A consequence of living in a village however was that everybody knew each other, and so when locals had realised that she was still here after a few weeks, they started to talk to her so they could get to know her too. Nobody could know who she was, so she caught herself in a balancing act between actively seeking out conversation and withdrawing from it to refrain from revealing more about herself than she ought to.

Her days were generally spent working on her apprenticeship proposals and sorting out the last of her parents' affairs. In the evenings she would curl up by the fireplace with a book. Fortunately, there was a small charity shop in the village centre that sold second-hand books. Hermione had purchased several of them, already reading her eleventh since discovering the shop towards the end of April.

Reading fiction offered her reprieve from the uniformity of her day-to-day life. It allowed her to switch off from thinking about her parents, and the bad way she had left things with Ginny and Ron before coming here.

She hoped that once she returned to 12 Grimmauld Place that a few days of distance would help to dissipate the siblings' frustration and help them to understand her perspective. Although, she could foresee Ronald being trickier to handle than Ginny. Knowing Ron, he was cross because he felt as if he had been pushed to the side-lines. His anger at Harry entering the Triwizard Tournament only showcased his insecurities surrounding this; she figured he would need plenty of time followed by a good heart-to-heart in order to forgive her.

Every so often Hermione's thoughts would travel back to Snape. Up until her injuries, she had spent the past year seeing him privately numerous times each week. Since frequenting his rooms, it wasn't uncommon for them to spend hours together in the evenings. Sometimes they would just sit in companionable silence focusing on their own thing, other times they would lose track of time entirely simply talking to one another.

His absence had stung during her two-week stint in the Hospital Wing, and that was with the distraction of still seeing her friends daily. Spending two months in near isolation had only served to exacerbate her longing for his company. She never would have anticipated that time spent apart from him would feel this jarring. Her loneliest evenings were occupied with thoughts of him and a bottle of cheap wine.

Her mind would drift to their last goodbye, and how nice it had felt to be brought closer into his chest. Or, the way he had held her the night when she had fallen asleep in his arms. Both times had soothed her in a way she couldn't articulate. It wasn't unusual for her to hug her male friends, but touching Harry and Ron had never made her feel this way.

A small part of her feared that her feelings towards him may not be entirely platonic. Her rational side reasoned that she was just overthinking everything in her boredom, and once she returned to headquarters her thoughts would revert to normality.

Hermione couldn't help but feel flattered that he had specially mixed a cream that would help treat her scar. Dumbledore would have always asked him to aid in healing her, and so regardless of their relationship he would have removed the dark magic from her wound and brewed potions on her behalf. The cream, however, was something he had chosen to do of his own volition.

Snape had a reputation for being callous and uncaring. For years she had been on the receiving end of his scathing words in his classroom to know that this wasn't an entirely undeserved reputation, but underneath the surface was a gentleness that she never could have anticipated. It was reserved, but it was most certainly there.

He had been the only one to work out something was happening with her, and he had been respectful enough to allow her to tell him at her own pace. He was always quick to notice if something was bothering her, and each time found a way to make things better – even if the solution was as straightforward as just cheering her up.

A few days ago, she had finished the last of the cream. It had worked much better than she had anticipated too; the deep pink had faded to a milky white and the ridges of the cicatrix had flattened, now barely raised from the surrounding healthy skin. She had cleaned any residue from the indigo glass of the apothecary jar, choosing to keep hold of it. The sentimental value she had attached to it was foolish but acknowledging it did little to change the way she felt.

* * *

It was Sunday 30th June at approximately 9:30pm and Hermione was sat cross-legged in her neighbour's garden, disillusioned and facing her parents' house. Tonight, her family home would be burned down by Death Eaters.

She had lived here since she was three years old. Her early childhood had been manufactured here. This was where she had baked cakes as a little girl with her mother, planted vegetables in the garden with her father, learned how to ride a bike, and had her first piano lessons. She had memories of crafting a swing with the aid of her parents out of some rope and wood, fastening it to an old tree in their garden. It was here that her growth to adulthood had been charted, her father etching each changing milestone in height into the wooden doorframe of her bedroom using a pen knife. Celebrations had been enjoyed here, from birthdays to Christmases laughter had echoed throughout the walls of this home.

Cold logic had told her not to come tonight. Her presence here placed significant, unnecessary risk onto herself. However, staying behind in the cottage as Death Eaters lit up her childhood home – snatching it from her – would have felt like a betrayal to herself. In the end, she had no choice but to side with her heart. Knowing that it would be the events of tonight that would act as the catalyst to needing to tamper with her parents' memories only served to add insult to injury.

She was relying on the darkness to camouflage the tell-tale glimmer of the disillusionment charm, hoping that Voldemort's followers would be too preoccupied with finding her parents to notice anything suspicious.

The distinctive crack of apparition announced their arrival. Five cloaked men had materialised in the centre of her street, only a few meters away from where she was sitting. As they surveyed their surroundings she noticed that two men were wearing silver masks, two were wearing gold, and one was wearing a simple black mask. _A sign of their ranking perhaps,_ Hermione thought to herself. All the Death Eaters she had fought in the ministry had worn golden masks. Since, she had learned that they were all members of Voldemort's inner circle.

Once they had determined that they were alone, they marched straight towards her home. One silver-masked man blasted her door open, knocking it clean off its hinges. Hermione watched as four of them entered, leaving the black-masked man to hover in her front garden. He appeared to be keeping a look out.

It hadn't escaped Hermione that one of these men would be Snape. This would be the first time she would see him presented as a Death Eater. Whilst she couldn't imagine any circumstance where she would wish to witness such a thing, she hated that it had to be _this._

Without a watch to keep track of time, she could only estimate how long she waited there. It felt like she had been watching the black-masked man pace restlessly for around 20 minutes. She imagined the men inside were beside themselves at the realisation her parents were not there, and that they would have to feedback this to their master.

Eventually three men walked out of her house – two silver-masked and one golden-masked. The golden-masked man who was portly and short in stature made a beeline for the black-masked man.

"Did you let anyone get passed you?" He snarled, roughly grabbing him by the collar.

The black-masked man nervously stammered an answer, but it was too quiet for Hermione to hear. She watched as the golden-masked man threw him to the ground, drew his wand, and cast the killing curse in a fit of anger.

The two silver-masked men were standing only a couple of feet away from the doorway to her home. One stood stiffly with his arms crossed, barely moving an inch. His comrade's demeanour juxtaposed his own, however. This man kept fidgeting, anxiously rocking his weight back and forth on his heels. Hermione found vindictive satisfaction in watching him squirm, relishing in the knowledge that with the help of the Order she had outsmarted them.

It was then that the second golden-masked man stepped out of her house. He was tall and lean, and Hermione realised with a sinking feeling that this was almost certainly Snape. His posture was straight, and he walked with a commanding grace.

"What do we do now?" The twitchy silver-masked man asked.

"Send word to the Dark Lord about what happened here tonight. Explain there has been a miscalculation - our time has been wasted." The tall golden-masked man drawled. _Definitely Snape,_ Hermione thought to herself as she recognised his voice. "Oh, and take your mess with you Goyle." He ordered, acknowledging the dead man on her front lawn.

"And what will you do, Snape?" The other silver-masked man asked.

"I'll burn this filthy hovel to the ground." He sneered.

Hermione's chest tightened. _It's just an act, that's not him,_ she told herself as she closed her eyes. She only opened them again when she heard the sound of the men apparating away. She looked on helplessly as Snape procured flames from the tip of his wand. He expertly wielded them across the brickwork, the heat smashing the windows and the fire spreading inside. The force of the incantation caused a flume of fire to break through a side window, clouds of billowing black smoke following in its wake.

Even for wizards, fire was notoriously difficult to maintain control of, and yet his performance made it look effortless. She may have even marvelled at his prowess if he wasn't responsible for the conflagration devouring her home.

Carefully, she stood from her hiding spot and crept forward to cross the street. Her morbid curiosity demanded she took a closer look, but she didn't want to alert him to her presence.

He stood proud as he commanded his magic. His posture was tight in a manner that Hermione thought wasn't dissimilar to a coiled snake ready to strike its target. Dressed in a black tunic, a hooded black cloak, and an ornate serpentine mask he looked every part the foreboding Death Eater. It was disquieting to think this was the same man she had embraced mere months ago, who had held her tightly as she said her goodbyes.

She watched in intrigue as he willed the blaze to calm. The fading embers revealed a husk of a building that was a mere shadow of what it had meant to her. The memories it had held of her youth were meaningless in the face of the burning heat that had licked its structure to ruins. There was a gentle crackling as sparks of light danced in the night sky, the soft glow lazily fading into nothing.

A sharp pang of grief hit her, constricting her gut painfully. She chanced one last look at Snape, who's wand arm now rested at his side. They all had their part to play in this war, and this was his. _It's not him. Not really,_ she told herself for the second time that night, as tears freely rolled down her cheeks. Shaking her head, she knew it was time to leave. With a pop, she apparated away to the confines of the Alkham cottage.

* * *

At last, Hermione was back at 12 Grimmauld Place. It was Friday 5th July, and she had arrived back at headquarters the previous day. Despite how much she had been looking forward to returning, it had felt strange being back.

Where she had been eager to see her friends again, they had been indifferent. Not that it was their fault – what had been three months for her had been a mere three days for them. She knew it was unreasonable to expect Ron and Ginny to be delighted to see her, but their icy reception had been hurtful.

Ron had been the worst. He wouldn't even look at her, let alone entertain talking to her. When she had arrived, he hadn't even verbalised his greeting, instead settling for pressing his lips together in a vague impression of a smile. Ginny had at least been civil towards her. She had spoken to her during meals, although the conversation had been a little strained.

Thankfully, Harry had welcomed her in a hug, swiftly pulling her aside to be filled in on her time away. Whilst seeing each other wasn't the novelty for him that it was for her, he had still been interested in her life. They had spent a long time talking about her decision to use a memory charm on her parents, and the long-term complications of her choices.

Unexpectedly, she had found on her arrival that she would no longer be sharing a bedroom with Ginny. Instead, a room on the third floor of the house had been given to her. This was the only bedroom on this floor, with the only other room being a small bathroom. As it was isolated from the other rooms it hadn't been used much since the house had been repurposed as a base for headquarters. Consequently, Hermione had needed to spend a bit of time yesterday removing the layer of dust that had coated the room before unpacking her belongings.

Sorting through all she had carried with her had taken a bit of thought. Almost everything she had brought had a shrinking charm on it, as not only had she needed to bring her own things, but also those of her parents. It had taken a couple of hours to methodically sort out what needed to remain shrunk in storage, and what needed to be returned to its original size.

Prior to arriving, Hermione had not fully considered what perception other people in the Order may now have of her. In the little time she had been back, she had caught Molly, Arthur, Sirius, and Fred and George all staring at her on several occasions.

Sirius had been the only one to acknowledge her situation, explaining that it was only reasonable to give her a bedroom of her own now that she was an adult and would be living with him for the foreseeable future. Since her parents had left and her home had been burned down, she was essentially homeless. Headquarters was now her only residence.

Fred and George had barely behaved any differently towards her. Although, she had expected them to make some sort of quip about her time-turning, but evidently they didn't feel comfortable yet. Molly and Arthur had been especially cordial towards her in a manner that was abnormal. Molly often wore an expression of pity when looking at Hermione, a habit she desperately wished the older woman would abandon.

It was clear they didn't feel ready to speak about the elephant in the room, and Hermione supposed she wasn't ready to discuss it either. Where it had been a relief to open up to her friends, she didn't know how to address it with people that she knew but wasn't particularly close with.

Today, Hermione had decided that she would try her best to mend the relationship between her and Ginny by apologising. She had gauged that everything was still too raw for Ron for it to be worthwhile pulling him aside, but Ginny was more level-headed than her brother. After dinner she had asked the redhead if she could talk to her, and now the two girls were sat on the end of Ginny's bed in what was once their shared bedroom.

"I know you're still upset with me, but I want to try and explain my reasoning for not telling you sooner. I _really_ don't want this to come between us." Hermione said, biting her lip anxiously.

Ginny sighed, "I'm not as hurt as I was the other day. I've been thinking about it since, trying to figure out what I would have done if I'd been in your position. I guess I just want to know _why_ you felt as if you couldn't talk to us."

"I trusted Dumbledore's judgement. If I ever questioned what he asked of me, he would find a way to make me feel ungrateful or naïve for doing so. I know I need to take some accountability for my own choices, but I truly thought what I was doing was right. I didn't want to risk losing what he was offering me by rejecting his rules."

Ginny nodded. "We all want to help in some way. I understand why you would agree to everything, I just wish you had felt comfortable enough to trust us. You know I would never go behind your back and spread your secrets, right?"

"If I thought otherwise then I don't suppose I'd be friends with you." Hermione answered. Breathing in she continued, "It's just difficult to make that leap of faith, especially when you're being told that it would be reckless to do so. There was a lot that I told you on Monday that Harry didn't know either. He went a long time not knowing my age, and I didn't tell him about my own occlumency lessons, or my induction into the Order. I'd gotten so used to lying that I guess it started to feel natural. I didn't think about what it would be like if my role had been reversed, and one of you had done what I had chosen to do." She winced.

"It must have been a lot to keep to yourself. I'm awful with secrets, I don't think I could have done it." Ginny forced a chuckle, trying to lighten the severity of the conversation.

"I wish I hadn't started using the time-turner if I'm honest with you. This whole thing… it's been like falling down the rabbit hole." Hermione said, fidgeting with her hands.

"The 'rabbit hole'?" Ginny asked, confused.

"Oh, sorry. Muggle expression." Hermione explained, forgetting her audience. "It means I accidentally found myself in a situation that was more than I bargained for. The saying is based on a children's book."

"Well, at least you don't need to keep any of this to yourself anymore. Can you tell me more about it?" Ginny smiled, moving closer to Hermione.

The girls talked for hours. At first Hermione explained that she felt disconnected from those around her, that the difference in her age complicated her relationships and her reality. She spoke about why that lead to her asking to graduate early and went on to mention the possibility of her taking an apprenticeship.

She caught up with Ginny, and what had been going on in her life in the last year. Ginny cried about her break-up with Michael, and how it had hurt to see him move on with Cho so quickly. Hermione apologised for being absent as a friend and reassured her that she was too good for him anyway.

They went on to talk about Hermione's last three months, and her stay in the cottage. Ginny expressed how sorry she was that she had to go through everything with her parents by herself.

In fact, the girls chatted until it was well past midnight, only deciding that it was time to stop when Ginny was struggling to keep her eyes open.

"Thanks for this – letting me talk about everything." Hermione said, now standing by the bedroom door.

"Don't thank me. I'm always here if you need to get something off your chest." Ginny said sleepily, lazily rubbing her eye. "I'm sorry I was so quick to judge… I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions."

"It's okay. It's… a lot, I know. I shouldn't have waited until you were about to leave to start confessing everything." Hermione conceded.

The two girls bid each other a goodnight, and Hermione soon found herself standing in the hallway outside Ginny's bedroom. After talking for so long, her throat felt dry. Before heading to bed, she decided that she would go down to the kitchen to take a glass of water up with her.

As she walked down the stairs, she noticed that a warm glow was surrounding the perimeter of the closed kitchen door. The light had been left on. This was unusual as Molly and Arthur would typically go to bed early, and if Sirius stayed up he would normally sit in the drawing room.

As she approached the door, she heard a popping noise that indicated someone had just apparated. Whether that was to arrive or leave, she did not know. Tentatively she knocked on the wooden door, not wishing to barge in on whoever may be inside.

* * *

As soon as Albus left, Severus scrubbed his hands roughly over his face as he slumped back into one of 12 Grimmauld Place's kitchen chairs. Having just had his weekly briefing with Dumbledore following his attendance at the latest Death Eater meeting, he was exhausted.

The intensity of the last couple of weeks had taken it out of him. Both of his masters were highly charged from the aftermath of the Ministry battle. Dumbledore and the Dark Lord were both trying to manoeuvre the situation to their benefit, and it was wearisome trying to keep up.

Behind the scenes at the Ministry Dumbledore was insisting that the prolific gathering of Death Eaters was evidence that You-Know-Who was back at large, whereas the Dark Lord had his Ministry cronies arguing that it did no such thing. He had them accuse Dumbledore of attempting to politicise the 'tragic' one-off resurgence of Death Eaters, and that as they had all now been incarcerated the threat was mute.

The excuse had been that the followers had grouped together in an act of defiance to mark 15 years since their leader had perished, and their foolhardy behaviour had thankfully led to their easy arrest. Afterall, it wasn't unheard of for small pockets of Death Eaters to assemble, as evidenced during the Quidditch World Cup.

The spin was not dissimilar to the claims that had surrounded Dumbledore for the past year; he was a paranoid old man who was well past his prime.

The Death Eaters were strategizing how they could take more control of the political climate and find more discreet ways of exercising their dominance. The Dark Lord was confident that he had the upper hand as his return was yet to be proved. He theorised that this time around a steadier, more subtle approach would secure his rise to power.

The inner circle had spent the night brainstorming their next manoeuvre. The most ludicrous suggestion had come from Selwyn who had seriously proposed the Dark Lord use his Ministry contacts to implement a 'marriage law' that would target muggleborns as a means to control them.

The idea was that all muggleborns would be forced to marry a half or pure-blood. The law would be promoted as a celebration of muggleborns aligning with wizardkind – a direct rebellion to the ideals that Death Eaters promoted. However, the catch would be that any muggleborns that rejected the law would be ostracised from the magical community and their wands would be snapped as punishment for antisocial behaviour. He reasoned that the terms and conditions of the marriage could be made sufficiently unappealing that few half and pure-bloods would wish to tie themselves down to such an agreement, and subsequently many muggleborns would be forced into living as muggles.

It had shocked Severus that the Dark Lord had been polite enough to not curse him for such a suggestion – imagine blood purists advocating for mixed marriages with muggleborns. He supposed that the man had only gotten away with it because his master had wanted to hear as many ideas as possible this evening, and so didn't have time to disrupt the session by punishing someone.

Severus was surprised to hear knocking on the kitchen door all of a sudden. He had assumed that those staying in the house would be sleeping at this hour, but he supposed it wasn't beyond reason that someone could still be awake.

"Come in if you must." He said languidly, very much hoping that he wouldn't be graced with the distasteful presence of Black tonight. There was only so much he could endure in one evening.

The door slowly opened to reveal Granger, who greeted him with a beaming smile that showcased her perfectly aligned, white teeth.

She softly closed the door behind her before saying, "I didn't expect to see you here."

It struck Severus that he couldn't remember the last time someone looked at him the way she was looking at him now. Perhaps her happiness only stood out in its disparity to the bleak evening that had been bestowed upon him, but it could very well have been years since someone had exhibited such cheer as a consequence of being in his company.

He was so taken aback by seeing her that he hadn't realised he was yet to reply.

"Well, are you going to say something?" She asked, her smile faltering.

"Sorry, forgive me." He shook his head, "I didn't expect to see you either." Frowning, he stood up from his seat.

"I just came to get a glass of water before bed, I won't be long." She said as she walked towards a cabinet.

She looked different, he noticed. The changes weren't drastic - it would only have been a few months since she had last seen him. Her skin was more tanned however, and her frame slightly fuller in a way that flattered her. He hadn't seen her hair like this either; normally she tied it up out of the way, but today she had worn it down, the curly tendrils delicately framing her face. He hadn't been aware of just how long it was before, the length falling just shy of her waist.

Whilst her appearance wasn't something he often thought about, it hadn't escaped his attention that she had blossomed into a desirable young woman. His breath hitched as he watched her petite form stretch to reach a glass from the highest shelf, the action causing the hem of her dress to rise daringly close to the alluring curve of her arse.

Forcing himself to regain his composure, he spoke, "Let me get that for you." In a few long strides he was soon behind her and was able to easily reach the glass that was just out of her grasp. Handing it to her, he smirked, "You know, you do have magic that could make fetching things a lot easier for you."

"I think I forget sometimes. It's easy to fall into muggle habits. Thank you." She smiled, her fingers brushing his as she took the glass from him.

"How was your trip? I trust your parents are safe?" He asked.

"Yes. Everything went to plan, luckily." She answered, biting her lip in thought. "The last few months have been a little lonely, but that's over now. It's actually taken a bit of adjustment having so many people to talk to suddenly." She chuckled.

"You had your parents to talk to, did you not?"

"It's a little complicated. I haven't been able to speak to them since the end of March. I've been by myself until I came back here yesterday." She shrugged.

"That's a long time to be alone." He said, brows knitting together. "Where did you stay?"

"In one of the Order safehouses. It wasn't all terrible, I managed to make some good headway on work I needed to do." She answered, turning from him to walk towards the sink. Filling her glass with water, she continued, "If you're curious, I can explain everything some other time. It's a little longwinded to go into at this time of night."

"I'd like that." Severus said. When she turned back around to face him, he cocked his head to the side in thought. "How peculiar it is to think it's been three months since you last saw me, but you were in my office only yesterday."

She hummed in agreement. "Yes, that's one word for it. At this point I'm used to being out of sync to those around me, but it takes a few days to settle in when I'm months out."

"You make it sound like you've done this before?" Severus asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I had a similar situation last summer. My friends thought we had gone a month without seeing each other, when for me it had been five. August gets really tedious when you've got to live through it three times." She said wryly.

"We can add that to the list of things you're going to tell me more about." He said, blinking rapidly in disbelief.

Granger went to speak but stopped herself.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Is it… is it wrong to tell you that I missed you?" She asked, biting her lip once again.

Without warning, the feeling of gaiety washed over him at her admission. Smiling, he took a couple of steps closer to her and softly said, "Not at all."

She moved towards him, leaving only a distance of two feet between them. He watched as her eyes flickered over his body. "It's odd seeing you wear casual clothing. I'm so used to seeing you in a shirt or your teaching robes." She remarked.

He was wearing a dark grey long-sleeved cotton t-shirt tucked into his usual black trousers. It was something he had thrown on with little thought after his earlier meeting, not wishing to remain in his Death Eater tunic any longer than necessary.

"Believe it or not, I do have a life outside of Hogwarts." He said drily, raising his eyebrows. Nothing in her eyes suggested she was mocking him, but he couldn't help but feel self-conscious underneath her appraisal.

"Apparently so." She said, taking a sip of her water. "You're not one of the teachers that stay there year-round then?"

"No, I have my own house. I think I'd lose my mind if I stayed there for the entirety of the year."

"Will I ever see it?" She asked, her question taking him by surprise.

"I've… well, I've never really thought about that before." He frowned.

"I was just curious; it doesn't really matter." She said, shrugging her shoulders. "Anyway, I should be heading to bed."

"I'm sorry to have kept you up." He apologised.

"I'm glad you did." She smiled, "Goodnight Snape."

Without thinking he replied, "Severus. When it's just us, you should call me Severus."

Her smile broadened into a grin, "Only if you agree to call me Hermione."

"Of course, Hermione. Goodnight." He said, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards.

It was remarkable to him that after such a joyless evening that it only took a short conversation with her to raise his spirits; her presence was a comfort he couldn't quite explain. It was refreshing to hear someone admit they missed him and for it not to be disingenuous. It did not escape him that many of his 'friends' determined his value by how useful he was to them, but Granger – no, Hermione – was happy to have him around regardless of what he could or couldn't give her.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry for the wait. I could list off many reasons why the wait was over three months long but I'm sure nobody actually wants to read that. I will say that it will not become the new normal and I intend for it to be a one off.
> 
> I'm in a better environment to write now so the wait in-between chapters should return to my preferred 1-2 weeks (less if I'm feeling really productive).
> 
> Thank you to everyone that interacts with this story. I always love reading your reviews.

It was Saturday 10th August and Severus was climbing the steps of 12 Grimmauld Place, on his way to the drawing room. In an entirely uncharacteristic bout of madness he had agreed to stay for dinner. He _never_ stayed for dinner. Well, almost never. Certainly not when he had a pantry full of food back at his home. On the only other two occasions he had agreed to stay he had fallen behind on keeping his groceries well stocked.

Molly had told him to expect a 40-minute wait for dinner. Noticing Black had lingered in the kitchen to mingle with some of the other Order members, Severus had decided to head to the drawing room in a bid to salvage what was left of his sanity. He couldn't stomach an _entire_ evening spent with that mangy dog, even if he had nobody to blame but himself.

Hopefully the room would be empty. He didn't fancy spending the better part of the next hour dealing with Potter and the younger Weasleys, even if that did encourage the possibility of running into Hermione.

Severus had noticed that she had slipped away at the end of tonight's Order meeting. In an ideal world she would be curled up on one of the sofas by herself, granting him the opportunity to talk to her again. It could be just like the pair of them being back in his rooms at Hogwarts.

Knowing his luck, he _would_ find her in the drawing room, but surrounded by her half-witted friends instead. Not only would he then _not_ be able to talk to her, but he wouldn't even have a quiet place to settle before dinner.

The drawing room door was ajar, so he gently pushed against it. In a rare display of good fortune Hermione was indeed there, solitarily. She was sat cross-legged on the floor using the coffee table as a work bench. Since the meeting she had tied her hair away from her face and had somehow managed to smear ink on her left cheek. There were loose pieces of parchment scattered across the worktop, and a pair of muggle notebooks to her right.

Her face was contorted in concentration as she scratched away at her parchment with her quill; her focus only broke when she heard the sound of the lock turning in the door. Hoping to discourage others from disturbing their privacy he had non-verbally locked them in and ensured to muffle the sound from inside the room.

"Are you sure that's wise? If someone tries to come in they might have a couple of questions as to why we've locked ourselves away." She asked softly.

"I'll just tell them the truth – I fancied some peace and quiet, and you just happened to already be here." He answered confidently.

"There I was, hoping you'd come in here because you valued my company." She said placing her hand on her chest, her voice exaggeratedly wistful.

"I value it more than anyone else living here." He replied, walking towards her.

"I take it your being here means you've let Molly convince you to stay for tea?" She asked, putting her quill down.

He hummed in agreement. "It keeps her in good spirits if I agree every once in a while." He said flippantly, not wishing to reveal _she_ was the real reason behind him staying. He reached down to pick up one of her notebooks on the coffee table, turning it over in his large hands to inspect it.

"You're being nosy." She said in a singsong voice, chiding him playfully.

"I'm a spy – it's my job to be nosy." He retorted.

Hermione laughed. "My apologies, I wasn't aware you needed to keep an eye on me." Extending an arm out towards him she asked, "Do you mind helping me up?"

He placed the notebook back down on the table and reached forward to help her to her feet. To steady her he placed his right hand on her hip. Severus knew he should've let go of her once she was standing but he chose to let his hand gently linger on her side.

"So, what is it exactly you're doing here?" He asked, nodding his head towards the mess on the table.

"Well, I believe you already know I'm graduating next year?" She asked.

"Everyone in the Order knows." He replied with a tight smile. He still felt bitterness towards her not attempting to tell him this herself.

"For my safety, Dumbledore thinks it would be wise to continue on at Hogwarts. He suggested I should try and take on an apprenticeship as a compromise. I've spent the last few months trying to figure out what on Earth I would research and how I'm meant to pitch that to a professor." She frowned.

"And you're sure that's something you want?" He asked softly, squeezing her hip in a move he hoped she found comforting.

"Yes, it is." She answered, smiling slightly. "It'll give me a new challenge – besides, with Vold-"

"Don't say his name!" Severus urgently interrupted.

Swallowing her surprise, she took a second to continue her sentence, "-With You-Know-Who back, it's a bit tricky to start career planning. This gives me a chance to figure out my options and how my future is going to look." She nodded firmly, as if she were trying to convince herself more than him.

"As long as you're certain." He told her.

Dumbledore had spent the last few years dictating to her how she should live. He knew what it was like to feel indebted to the man, to feel like your voice was insignificant – unworthy of being listened to. He didn't want her life to be anything like his own.

Hermione twisted to the side to better look at the coffee table, in doing so she pressed her hip further into his touch. Severus was unsure if considering the movement intentional would be overthinking it, so he tried his best to mute any thoughts that were pleased by this idea.

"I've tried to prepare proposals for two subjects, just in case one fell through. I've hardly been short on free time recently, so I was hoping I'd have two strong presentations by next month. I've spent so much time going over them now that the words don't even look real anymore – they're just scribbles on a page." She said sadly.

Releasing her from his grasp, he turned to look down at the coffee table to scan the pages of parchment there.

"Arithmancy and Defence Against the Dark Arts?" He asked, his brow furrowing. He noticed that the two subjects made a repeated appearance in her clean penmanship – which, in his opinion, was too meticulously tidy to ever be compared to as 'scribbles on a page'.

"Yes, I thought they were the most logical choices. Although, I must admit Arithmancy has been particularly difficult to write for." She said, sounding dejected.

"I wouldn't worry. Septima likes you, I can't imagine she would hesitate in agreeing to take you under her wing." He answered breezily, flicking through the various pages in front of him.

"She does?" Hermione asked, chirping up.

Severus hummed in agreement. "In fact, you'll find most of the faculty is enamoured with you; it's ever so tedious listening to it all." He said wryly.

She grinned upon hearing this, but the smile soon fell to be replaced with the all too familiar sight of her biting her lip in worry. "It's not really deserved though, is it? Not really. Not when I'm two years older than my peers." She said, wrapping her arm around her middle in a self-comforting gesture.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Believe me, they harped on about you before your third year. If you were as unremarkable as you fear I dare say you wouldn't be in this mess."

Hermione laughed. "Delicately put." She said, shaking her head.

Standing back up straight he turned to her again. "I am well known for my tact." He smirked.

Tilting her head to the side, Hermione asked, "I don't suppose you know who the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher is going to be this year? It'd be good if I could get them to become enamoured with me too. You're a Slytherin – maybe you can give me some pointers on getting into strangers' good books." She giggled.

Severus raised his eyebrows. "It's funny you ask. As of three days ago, it was confirmed that I would be the one to take over the position."

Hermione's brows knitted together. "So, you're not teaching Potions?"

"Not anymore, no. I can hardly be expected to teach _two_ subjects."

"I suppose not." Hermione frowned. "Who is teaching Potions then?" She asked, flummoxed.

"Horace Slughorn. For whatever reason Dumbledore's asked him back; he was the Potions professor when I was at school – my head of house too."

"Oh… right."

"It's okay Hermione, I'm not the only person in the country that is capable of teaching Potions. Your education is still in safe hands." He teased.

She shook her head. "I know that. It'll just be… strange not having you teach it. I'm not sure I can imagine Potions without you." She replied, confusion still written on her face. "It's good you got the Defence Against the Dark Arts position though. Everyone knows you've been after that for years."

"Do they now? Is this you admitting to having gossiped about me?" He asked, quirking his brow.

"Not purposefully! You can't expect students not to talk though."

"Don't worry, I've been teaching long enough to know that's an impossibility."

"There is of course one obvious upside to you being awarded the position." Hermione smiled.

"What would that be?" He asked, eyebrows raised.

"That you must know if you're already enamoured with me, or if it's something that needs a little more work." She said playfully, now struggling to suppress her smile.

Severus chuckled, surprised by her brazen words. "Your presence is manageable." He said with a firm nod.

"Manageable?" She repeated with a grin. "Tell me, do you make a habit of locking yourself away with people you merely find manageable?"

"Only when the alternative company is as unsavoury as it is tonight."

Hermione nodded, "Sure." She said, in a tone that made it clear she knew he was lying.

She moved to crouch beside the coffee table and began organising her notes together into two neat piles.

"You don't believe me?" He asked, talking to her back.

"Why would you stay behind for dinner if you didn't like anybody here?" She answered.

"Well, a man has to eat Granger." He countered, using her surname from old habit. "Besides, I never said I disliked you."

He noticed that upon speaking her name she hesitated for a second, pausing her tidying for the briefest of moments. Once she finished organising her work she stood back up to face him.

"No, just that I'm 'manageable'." She replied, the humour now missing from her voice as her lips thinned.

"I didn't mean to suggest-"

"-It's fine." She interrupted, her clipped tone making it clear that it most certainly was _not_ fine. "I need to put this back in my room before dinner." She said, referring to the pile of papers now tucked underneath her arm.

"I see." He said through clenched teeth.

She continued to look at him for a second or two, before turning on her heel to head towards the door.

 _Well fantastic, that's going to make for a perfectly awkward dinner,_ Severus thought to himself in frustration as he raked his hand through his hair. _What could I have said? Yes Hermione, I suppose I must be enamoured with you – so much so I've committed to spending the evening in the home of a man I hate, on the slim possibility I could spend a mere five minutes talking to you._

Severus flopped backwards onto the nearby armchair. _Forget it. She wouldn't just the leave the room if she heard that, she'd leave you entirely,_ came a bitter voice within. He leaned forwards to cradle his head in his hands, his elbows supported by his thighs. _What a miserable life you lead,_ he told himself, closing his eyes.

* * *

It was Monday 12th August at 8:30am and Hermione was stood in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place talking to Ginny, Fred and George about the twins' new joke shop opening next week. They were tucked away in an alcove by the kitchen cabinets, whilst the rest of the household bustled about preparing for the day ahead.

Last week it had been confirmed that Sirius' trial would take place over the next five days. It would determine his involvement in the muggle attack 15 years ago, and if he had ever been a follower of Voldemort.

In the chaos that had followed the Ministry attack Dumbledore had managed to secure a hearing for Sirius in front of the Wizengamot. Sirius had been sighted helping the Order the night of the battle, and Dumbledore believed it would take years before a better opportunity would present itself. If proven innocent then his only crime would be escaping Azkaban, which could easily be swept aside if he agreed not to seek compensation for being wrongfully imprisoned.

It was a risky manoeuvre by Dumbledore. If it failed not only would Sirius be incarcerated, it would further discredit the Headmaster and the Order as an organisation. It would appear as if Dumbledore was rubbing shoulders with known, dangerous criminals.

Sirius did not hesitate when he was presented with the possibility of being a free man again; he had leapt at the opportunity to better his and Harry's life. This time around, he wasn't struggling with the raw emotion of feeling responsible for his best friend's death. He _knew_ what was at stake now, how important this was in securing a 'normal' future for himself and Harry. The benefits were tangible now.

The intricacies of the trial hadn't been detailed to Hermione. She knew that the trial would begin today, and that the Order would have the verdict by Friday. She was one of the few who were being left behind at headquarters.

The twins, Remus, and Molly would be attending the trial to boost morale. Arthur had managed to get the Friday off from work to join them, but Tonks hadn't been so lucky. Harry would be used as a character witness, but Dumbledore did not want him there when it wasn't essential. The risk was considered to be too great; his presence could bait the Death Eaters into attacking.

"I still can't believe you're keeping the WonderWitch branding." Hermione said, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

"Why wouldn't we?" Fred asked.

"Sold like a charm in Hogwarts." Grinned George.

"We're just giving the people what they want." They chimed together.

"It is a bit sexist though, you must admit." Ginny countered, taking Hermione's side.

"Plenty of men throughout history have used love potions – it's certainly not exclusive to women." Hermione added.

"In our experience it's always the girls that want to trick their lovers into their clutches – never the men." George said all-knowingly.

Hermione rolled her eyes, rising to their bait. "Oh, for goodness sake-" She began, but the voice of Molly Weasley stopped her.

"Right! Anyone wishing to come to the Ministry, we're flooing there now from the downstairs hall." The matron announced.

"That's us Hermione, we'll have to continue this conversation another time." Fred winked at her. She released a sigh of annoyance, lamenting the missed opportunity to explain the history of love potions throughout the ages.

"What's he doing here?" Hermione heard Ron ask obnoxiously. She turned her head to see who he could be talking about, but a scathing reply answered her curiosity before she could scan the room.

"I'm here Mr Weasley because I've been awarded the _luxury_ of making sure you children don't come up with yet another inventive way to get yourselves killed." Severus practically snarled. He was stood in the corner of the room, on the other side of the dining table. His arms were folded against his broad chest, a look of disgust marring his features.

Surprisingly, he was wearing a thin dark navy jumper over black trousers. On anybody else it would be a perfectly boring choice, but on him it was striking in its abnormality. Casual clothing was a novelty, but colour was a revelation.

"Yes Dear, Professor Snape will be staying here until the weekend, just so we've got an extra person on hand if anything goes awry." Molly said, a polite smile plastered on her face. Her wavering voice gave away her nervousness; she had clearly been unsettled by Severus' unsavoury mood.

"If he gives you any grief boys, don't hesitate in telling me." Sirius said loudly to Harry and Ron, ensuring that Severus heard. His lip curled further, revealing his heightened displeasure.

"Hermione, perhaps you could show Professor Snape to his room?" Arthur said diplomatically, in a thinly veiled attempt to ease the tension in the room. "It's the last room on the second floor."

Nodding, Hermione answered, "Yes of course. Follow me, Professor."

The two of them walked out of the kitchen and started the climb in the direction of the second floor. When they had reached the first-floor hallway, Hermione turned her head to glance in Severus' direction. His expression was stony-faced and just as unwelcoming as before.

"You didn't tell me you would be staying here for a week." Hermione said conversationally, breaking the silence. She had waited until they were out of earshot of the others – it wouldn't do well to have prying eyes question their familiarity.

"I didn't know either until yesterday evening." He answered churlishly.

"How familiar are you with the layout of the house?" She asked, coming to a stop by the staircase that would lead them up to the second floor.

"I know where the kitchen, drawing room, and first floor bathroom is." He said, sighing irritably.

"Well, it might benefit you to know that on this floor we have Harry and Ron's bedroom, Ginny's bedroom, and the twins' bedroom." She said, pointing to the corresponding doors to indicate precisely where each room was.

"Why in Merlin would that 'benefit' me?" He asked harshly, his lips thinning.

"Look, if Ron or Sirius has put you in a bad mood, don't take that out on me." She chided. "Let's take a look at the second floor, shall we?" She said, forcing a lighter tone. With her back turned to him, she rolled her eyes as she began her ascent to the next floor; he could be tricky to handle sometimes.

"On this floor we have an ever so _charming_ collection of artworks. All three pieces show muggles being enslaved – a classic display no self-respecting pure-blood home would be complete without." Hermione delivered drily, flourishing her arm in the direction of oil paintings that took centre-stage on the second-floor wall.

Severus snorted a laugh. "Certainly. It would be improper to suggest otherwise." He said, leaning into her humour.

"The room on the left belongs to Ron's parents, the one along is Sirius', and then there's Remus' room. This is where you will be staying." Hermione explained, coming to a stop outside the fourth door.

Severus stepped forward and pushed the bedroom door open. Looking over his shoulder he brusquely asked, "Where is your bedroom?"

"I'm upstairs on the top floor. There's a second bathroom up there too – it's smaller, only room for a shower and a toilet, but it's practical enough." She answered, shrugging. "It's the first door on your right, if you wish to use it."

"Why didn't they give you this room? Wouldn't it make more sense to keep you with everyone else?" He asked contemptuously.

"I don't really know… this room was already being used for guests. Maybe they thought it would be a bit rude to isolate a visitor?" She answered, her brow furrowing. It wasn't something she had thought about before.

Following him, she stepped inside the bedroom. Once past the threshold, he turned to reach over her, closing the door behind them. The action helped to put her at ease. If he was irritable, this at least suggested it had nothing to do with her.

"I don't know, I'd much rather isolation than sharing a floor with Black and Lupin." He muttered under his breath.

"Well, you're hardly going to see much of them whilst you're here – I mean, you wouldn't have been asked to stay otherwise." She said, trying to put him in better spirits.

He didn't answer, however. Hermione watched as he took his shrunken suitcase out of his pocket, and non-verbally enlarged it to its standard size.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"I don't want to be here." He answered frankly, not bothering to look at her. He lifted the suitcase onto the bed and started to unpack his belongings into the chest of drawers opposite.

"Well that's obvious." She snapped back; his attitude was starting to bother her.

He inhaled deeply through his nose, clearly frustrated. "You're taking this so personally-"

"-You're making it personal." She interrupted him; voice hard. "You've been nothing but difficult since you've arrived. I didn't ask you to come here, so don't talk to me like I'm your problem." She said, looking him up and down in disapproval.

"Don't be so dramatic." He said derisively, finishing his sentence with a firm slam to the drawer he was closing.

"I've got better things to do than put up with you when you're like this." She sighed, exasperated. Her hand had closed round the handle of the door, opening it about an inch before it came slamming shut again.

Severus was stood directly behind her, his tall frame towering over her own. His hand, which was a foot above her head, remained on the door even once she had let go. He leaned in towards her, leaving only a few inches of space between their chests.

"You don't need to leave." He said. His brows knitted together, concerned.

"You're going to be nice then?" She asked.

"As nice as you need me to be." He answered softly, the lower volume emphasising the baritones in his voice.

She was certain he didn't intend that to sound as suggestive as it did, but it didn't stop the fluttering pulse of warmth that travelled southwards from her stomach.

It was difficult to keep her mind clean when he was this close to her – almost touching her, but not quite. It was too easy to wonder what the stubble on his cheeks would feel like if she touched the skin there, how the roughness would feel if she kissed him.

Hermione felt her eyes flutter shut, and she had to force herself to quickly open them again. _Don't let your mind go_ _ **there**_ _,_ she scolded herself.

"That's all I needed to hear." She smiled at him, not able to quite meet his eye. "It might help you feel better though if you told me what _is_ bothering you."

Severus took his hand away from the door and took a step back. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose and turned his head away from her.

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you of all people how… challenging Dumbledore can be." He paused, swallowing thickly. "I could cope if he just _told_ you what he wants from you – if he made it clear that his 'requests' are nothing of the sort, that they're _demands._ " He explained, voice taut. He walked back to his suitcase to unpack the last few items.

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Hermione quietly agreed. "I've tried to explain it to Ginny what he can be like… but if you've not experienced it, I don't think you could understand."

He laughed, but it was devoid of humour. "That's because the version of himself he presents to the world is different to the one you're greeted with in private. I learned that the hard way a long time ago." He said through clenched teeth.

"Are you upset that you're stuck here, or more specifically that it was Dumbledore's order?" She asked, concern twisting her countenance.

"Both. You'd think after 16 years I'd be used to it by now." He answered, his nostrils flaring. "I have two masters – there is very little left in my life that I get autonomy over." He said flatly as he zipped up his empty suitcase and tucked it in a gap between the chest of drawers and the wall. Turning to look at her, he continued, "I have to watch children for 9 months of the year. I expect to reach the summer and enjoy the peace that comes with being alone – I don't appreciate losing almost an entire week of that time."

"You like being alone?" She asked.

"There's nobody to demand anything from you if you're alone."

"I don't demand anything from you." She whispered.

She watched as his eyes roamed her face, as if he were looking for something. After a moment, he said in a low voice, "No, I suppose you don't."

"So, what are your plans for the day?" Hermione smiled, forcibly bring her voice up to a cheerful sound.

"I've got to make some headway on my lesson planning for next term, so I'll do that whilst making sure you and your friends don't paint another bright red target on yourselves." He answered wearily.

"Well, we are Gryffindors, we're meant to like the colour red." She deadpanned.

Severus raised his eyebrows, "Don't joke about that." He said, no bite in his voice.

"Spoilsport." She smirked.

"What will you be doing with your day?" He asked.

"Reading mostly." She shrugged. "Harry, Ginny, and Ron will want to spend the day – in fact, probably the week – playing quidditch in the garden. Normally, Molly will stop them from doing it for any longer than an hour; she'll tell them to study, clean… anything but muck about outside I guess. With her gone for the next five days they'll want to make the most of that."

"You won't join them?" He questioned, sounding surprised.

Hermione laughed. "When have you ever seen _me_ play quidditch?"

"Just because you haven't made the Gryffindor team doesn't necessarily mean you don't enjoy playing the sport?"

"Goodness no, I'm terrified of flying. I'm quite comfortable just watching it, with my two feet firmly on the ground." She said, feeling a little alarmed at just the thought of being in the air.

"I had no idea you had a fear of heights." He said, smiling at her.

 _At least he's perking up, even if it is at_ _ **my**_ _expense,_ she thought to herself.

"No, not a fear of heights, specifically a fear of flying." She explained.

"What's the distinction?"

"I can be up high _without_ floating in the air. I can just about tolerate a muggle airplane – they at least give the illusion of stability."

"You were friends with that Krum boy, were you not? You should have asked him to help you overcome your phobia."

"We were a little more than just 'friends' back then, but he offered a couple of times. I turned him down as it's not something that bothers me." She clarified.

"I didn't know. I had assumed that Rita bint was just looking for another story." He turned his head for a moment, looking as if he were mulling something over. "The part about you being in a love triangle with Potter… that _was_ a lie, wasn't it?" He asked, sounding uncertain.

Hermione laughed at this. "Yes, that part was _definitely_ a lie. Harry and I, we don't think about each other like that. We're just friends – good friends."

"Okay, good." He nodded, appearing relieved at her answer. "You could still sit outside with them, read whilst they play?"

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" She joked.

"I think you know me better than that." He said with a pointed look. "I just thought you would want to spend time with your other friends. You know, the ones you don't have to hole yourself away indoors with from fear of being seen with them."

"Ron and I aren't really getting along at the moment." She explained with a sad smile.

"You've fallen out?" He asked.

"He took issue with me lying about my time-turner," She told him as she reached to fidget with the end of her plaited hair. "He's yet to forgive me."

"That's his loss then. Don't worry about him." He said firmly.

Hermione nodded, "It's okay. He'll come around eventually anyway, he always does." She explained.

"Without wishing to sound like I _am_ trying to get rid of you, we've both been up here a while. They can't think we've been chatting the entire time, so you need to head down separately to me. I'll go to the kitchen now and you're welcome to join me later, preferably after you've checked on your friends." He told her.

"Okay. I'll head to my room to grab a book and then I'll see what they're up to." She agreed.

Hermione turned to leave the room. As her hand touched the cold metal of the handle she heard him say, "I'm glad you're here, just so you know. I don't want to be here, but you make it better."

"Good." She smiled, turning to look at him. Then she pushed on the handle and left the room, quietly closing the door behind her.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the back-to-back long waits between chapters! Life has been hectic. I've been working on this for a few hours every day for over a week now, trying to get this out. I'm hoping to get another chapter or two up by the end of the month because I reckon I'll be snowed under with uni work in January.
> 
> Thank you so so much to all of the lovely people who leave me wonderful reviews and kudos!

On the morning of Tuesday 13th August, Severus was heading towards the kitchen. It had just turned 5am and it was time to stop staring at his bedroom's four walls as if they held the secret to a good night's rest. Ordinarily a light sleeper, trying to get a restful sleep in a house foreign to him was always going to be an impossibility. With the sun now risen, it was fruitless to expect any further success.

Yesterday evening Molly had told him that she wakes the house at half 7, ensuring everyone can be out of bed ready for breakfast to be served at 8am. This gave him hope that he could have a couple hours' peace to himself, enjoy a good coffee and a peruse through this month's edition of The Illustrated Journal of Potions.

He shoved the old wooden door to the kitchen open. Rubbing his bleary eyes with the base of his palm, he made a direct beeline for the kettle, desperate to get some caffeine in his system.

"Good morning." Hermione's voice unexpectedly greeted him from behind.

It had been his assumption that nobody else would be up at this time, so he had waltzed straight through the kitchen without pausing to check his surroundings. As a spy, he knew better – it was sloppy to behave in this manner. If the circumstances had been different, he could have easily exposed himself to danger.

He turned to find her lounging in the shabby, tapestry upholstered chair in the corner, clutching a clothbound book. She had tucked herself sideways, her long legs dangling over the end of the right armrest. She was wearing her hair down again, the wayward curls cascading over her shoulders. It suited her like this, he thought. Not many people had hair like hers, and it accentuated her beauty.

"You're up early." He said, a single eyebrow raised in question.

"I couldn't sleep." She explained, gently shrugging her shoulders.

"That makes two of us then. How long have you been up?" He queried, scratching his cheek. He felt hyperaware of the two-day stubble there. If he had known he was going to run into her, he'd have bothered to shave before his coffee.

Frowning in thought for a moment, she answered, "An hour perhaps?"

"I was going to make some coffee. I'm assuming you could also use the caffeine?" He asked.

"That would be lovely, thank you." She smiled at him. Swinging her legs round to pick a mug up off the floor, she then stood to walk towards him.

"Not your first then?"

"This was only tea, actually." She explained, walking past him to the kitchen sink. Rinsing her mug, she asked, "What about you, how long have you been up?"

"Merlin knows. I don't think I had a solid hour's sleep all night." He said, talking to her back.

Once she had stepped to the side, he moved forwards to fill the kettle with enough water for two.

"Tough night then." She frowned, concerned. "You must be shattered."

"I'll be fine, the coffee will soon sort me out." He answered with a tight-lipped smile.

"Let's hope it works for us both." She replied.

Wandlessly, Severus lit the hob to boil the kettle and then turned to face her.

"What were you reading?" He asked, changing the subject.

"Oh, only a transfiguration textbook. Nothing exciting. I've not done much reading for my N.E.W.T.s in the last few months. I need to start refreshing my memory on everything before I run out of time." She answered.

"You? Run out of time? What a novel idea." He quipped.

She didn't answer, instead averting her gaze as she chewed on her bottom lip.

"That was a joke, Hermione." He said softly.

"No, I know. Sorry." She apologised, turning her head to look at him again.

"You don't need to apologise for not finding me funny. I dare say you're not the first." He said wryly.

The kettle whistled then, and Severus began to prepare their drinks. Sharing a hot drink together had become such a routine in the past year that he could make hers without thought, her preferences fixed in his brain. Coffee was white with no sugar; tea was strong with two.

"I was thinking - if you like - I could look at both of your proposals? Give you feedback before you submit them." He said as he stirred the drinks.

"I would like that. Thank you." She said, her tone suggesting she hadn't expected his offer.

"You needn't sound so surprised. You should know by now I'll always help you where I can."

"Yeah?"

"Yes." He said firmly. He held a steaming cup of coffee out to her, prompting her to take it from him, fingers lightly brushing in the handover.

A delicate blush bloomed from her cheeks, spreading to her chest. She smiled softly, her chestnut-coloured eyes struggling to meet his own.

If he didn't know better, he would say his words had made her nervous – a shyness that would imply she was flattered. Severus' heartrate quickened at the prospect of _him_ having such an effect on her _._

"I'm lucky then, to have you around." She told him; voice gentle as the frail morning light leaking through the windows.

Severus had detested being asked to live here for a week, to reside alongside Dumbledore's favourites as if he too were a welcome member of the pack. He'd spent much of July suffering Pettigrew's nauseating existence in his home - he didn't need to cap his summer with Black, Lupin and Potter. Stood here though, in front of _her_ , his feelings of uneasiness dispelled in the warmth of her company.

 _You can have me for as long as you want me,_ he thought to himself, bringing his mug of coffee to his lips. He didn't answer her with words, instead settling for a closemouthed smile. As he watched her tuck a rogue curl behind her ear, he couldn't help but think that perhaps this week would be okay after all.

* * *

Later that day Hermione was perched on the end of Ginny's bed, her friend sat cross-legged at her feet as she plaited her long, red hair into two French braids.

Ginny was telling her some gossip about a girl she shared her dormitory with, but Hermione's mind was elsewhere, occupied with thoughts of her parents. It had been her dad's birthday Sunday just gone, the occasion serving as a stark reminder of what she had done.

The worst part was that she had forgotten until that evening, when she was absent-mindedly flicking through the Sunday edition of the Prophet. She had spotted the written date in the top right of the paper and thought it looked familiar, taking a minute to make the connection. Soon after she had made her excuses to Harry and Sirius who had been sitting in the kitchen with her, and swiftly took herself to bed. Since, she had been racked with guilt that she had dared to neglect her dad's memory, more so when he had no choice in forgetting her.

It was precisely why she had struggled to sleep last night, and despite her fatigued state would no doubt struggle tonight too.

Her focus drifted back to Ginny when the younger girl started to laugh at the anecdote she was relaying to her.

"Honestly, there were boils _everywhere_. I can't believe he did that to her, he's normally so mild mannered y'know? Who knew he had a temper in him!" She chuckled.

"So, um, he jinxed her then?" Hermione asked, trying to piece together what the story must have been.

Ginny started to turn around, offended at Hermione's question. "Were you even listening?"

"Don't move! You'll ruin your hair." Hermione chastised. Sheepishly she continued, "I may have missed a detail or two."

Sighing, Ginny explained, "Maria cheated on Grant with Joe Selwyn, and then Grant got her back with a nasty pimple jinx in the middle of Herbology. Happened in the last week of term too, what a way to say goodbye!"

Wrinkling her nose, Hermione asked, "Why in the middle of class? Was it just to embarrass her?"

"Well, Joe had volunteered himself to partner up with Maria and everything just kicked off. There'd been rumours going around for weeks, so I think it just tipped Grant over the edge." Ginny shrugged.

"Right." Hermione said, blinking quickly as she processed the nugatory story. It was difficult to be absorbed in the dating lives of three near enough strangers when she was obsessively reliving the pain of being separated from her parents. She only knew who Grant and Maria were because they shared a common room with her.

Despite her apathy, Hermione continued to ask her questions about the love triangle. Figuring she'd been rude enough already, she thought she owed it to her friend to feign interest.

Several minutes later, she was wrapping the final hair tie around the second braid to secure it. This was when Ginny changed the course of conversation.

"I've been meaning to ask… do you think Harry is still hung up on Cho? I mean she's with Michael now, anyway." Ginny asked her. "Pretty quick to stick her tongue down his throat, actually." She mumbled bitterly.

Hermione laughed. "No, I think he was quick to move on from her when she started defending Marietta."

"Oh Merlin, don't! She's lucky she only got a few spots on her forehead. Can't believe how much she whined about it, the nerve on her! Considering Dumbledore got sacked because she couldn't keep her silly mouth shut."

"Right! I could have charmed much worse than 'sneak'." She agreed with enthusiasm. "I can think of a few choice words, actually." She muttered.

The two girls laughed in unison.

"So, do you think I've got a chance with him?" Ginny asked, hopeful.

Hermione winced. "Not this again. You shouldn't be throwing yourself at him – you're better than that!"

"Well I wasn't going to be obviousabout it!"

Hermione laughed, "Yes you were! If I were you I'd focus on moving on, and when he pulls his head out of his arse he'll figure out what he's missing."

"I _did_ move on though! I was with Michael for months, and nothing!" She pouted.

Sighing, Hermione conceded she had a point. "Fair enough. You can't force the matter though – he should be working for your attention too. Spend more time together, but don't let yourself waste any more months pining after him. You need to know your own worth."

Ginny nodded. "Okay, yeah. I'll see if I can win him round by the end of the month, and if not, I'll start the new school year open to any boys who _are_ interested in me."

"That sounds like a plan." Hermione smiled.

Ginny jumped up from her spot on the floor to look at her hair in the mirror. "Ooo, I like it! Thanks for this, I'm rubbish at plaiting my own hair." She said cheerily, fussing over the braids.

"Any time."

"Wanna go see if the boys are about, maybe get some lunch?" Ginny asked.

"You're assuming Ron isn't _already_ at lunch, stuffing his face as per." She joked.

"Yeah, there's always a risk." Ginny laughed.

* * *

The following day after Lunch, Hermione decided she would slip out of the house and go on a walk to a nearby shop. She was still feeling glum about her father's birthday, so to raise her spirits she decided she would do a spot of baking.

It was something she had occasionally done during her stay at the Alkham safehouse. It helped to busy her hands and mind, and at the end of it she would have a tasty treat. With the August sunshine, Hermione was in the mood for lemon drizzle cake.

After doing an inventory check of 12 Grimmauld Place's kitchen she understood that all she needed to purchase was self-raising flour and a couple of lemons.

It wasn't difficult to find grocery shops in Islington; on every other street corner you would find small businesses selling food and household goods. Hermione decided on a place that was a 15-minute walk away from the house, figuring that a 30-minute round trip would give her the fresh air she needed.

Whilst there was a small garden at the house, Hermione found that walking outside was much more therapeutic than lounging around. She loved being outdoors, but she wasn't much of a sunbather.

She swiftly found and paid for the two items on her list, spontaneously grabbing a bottle of white wine whilst there. She slipped them into her bigger-on-the-inside, beaded velvet bag.

On her walk back to headquarters she realised how much better she already felt by just being away from the house. A stroll through Islington was rather different than the countryside walks she'd taken in Alkham. Red brick and grey cement crowded the landscape, but it felt good to be amid the hustle and bustle of muggle London.

Her parents often spent weekends exploring London, taking her with them. She had always liked Islington, particularly favouring Le Mercury: an unassuming, cosy French restaurant tucked away in a busy street so snugly it could easily be overlooked. She remembered first discovering it with her mother after they visited a nearby Italian art museum, and they had enjoyed it so thoroughly they were sure to invite her father along several weeks later.

Approaching the weathered, black front door of Sirius' house she twisted her key in the nickel lock and gently pushed her way inside. She rounded the corner, stepping into the kitchen. Retrieving the lemons and flour from her bag, she rummaged through the cupboards, gathering her other ingredients. The wine was put in the fridge, saved for later.

"Where have you been?" Severus' deep voice snarled from behind, startling her.

"I popped out quickly to go to the shops." She supplied breezily, glancing over her shoulder at him. Catching his angry stare, she quickly halted what she was doing and spun around to face him. His jaw was tightly clenched and his posture stiff.

"You left to go to the _shops_." He hissed derisively, looking at her as if she'd just dribbled on her chin.

"I believe I spoke clearly, yes." Hermione blinked. Insulted, she lifted her chin defiantly.

"If only your thoughts were as clear as your pronunciation." He bit out. "What in Merlin possessed you to leave the house without telling me?"

Hermione laughed in disbelief. "Are you truly operating under the belief that I somehow must answer to _you?_ It's not me you've been asked to babysit!"

Her words only served to incense him further. His nostrils flaring, he abruptly strode to the door leading to the garden and locked it, shutting the blinds with his magic. Harry, Ron and Ginny were outside, and whatever Severus was planning on telling her he evidently didn't wish to be privy to their ears – or eyes.

"If I'm that _insignificant_ ," He spat, the word venomous on his tongue, "then you won't need _my_ help the next time your foolhardiness threatens to kill you. Perhaps you've already forgotten that you're only able to show such flagrant disregard to your safety because _I_ healed you." He retorted; each word uncharacteristically louder than the last.

The only other two occasions he had shouted at her had been when they were discussing Harry encroaching on his memories. Normally, he was able to keep a tight enough lid on his temper to refrain from raising his voice.

Her mouth opened in shock, and for a second she struggled to formulate the words she needed to answer him. " _Somehow_ I think there's a distinction to be made between a London grocer and a department full of Death Eaters at the Ministry." She cried, incredulous.

"Oh, I agree, until someone grabs you. Then what, hmm? You're missing, and nobody knows where you've gone until it's too late. Until I get called in front of the Dark Lord and I'm granted the privilege of watching you get _tortured_." He said, each sentence increasing in pace.

"For goodness sake – I don't think they're patrolling London on the off chance one of us slips out for a walk! I'm not some helpless little thing, I'm capable of defending myself if I need to."

"Yes, I'm _perfectly_ aware how vicious _you_ can be when it suits you." He growled. "Yet somehow, I don't think defending yourself in a crowd of muggles would bode well for you either. Not when you're masquerading as a 16-year-old. How would you answer that? When the Ministry arrives for damage control and they're left wondering why your use of under-age magic hasn't been flagged?"

Hermione blinked, baffled. "Vicious? What are you talking about?"

"Stop it. You know you used dark magic in the Ministry." He scolded, pointing a finger at her.

"I had no choice! What was I supposed to do, hit them with a Bat-Bogey Hex?" She asked wide-eyed in disbelief.

"I'm not criticising your methods; they were certainly effective." He said, placing his hand on his chest in mock appreciation. "Avery's had a hard time walking off the impact of your arrows, he's got a permanent limp these days." He said disdainfully.

"My deepest condolences to your _friend._ " She spat scornfully, her jaw shaking.

Severus recoiled as if he'd been slapped, his posture straightening. Not looking at her, he continued tautly, "You can't go around the way you did before the fight at the Ministry, not if you value your life. All of his followers – not just the Death Eaters - have been asked to look out for you, steal you if they can."

"Ginny has left with only Molly since, why would being by myself pose more danger than that? I've had training, I understand what to look out for. She's only 15 - and correct me if I'm wrong - but Molly hasn't been taught combat." She asked meekly, the fight draining from her upon seeing his hurt from her words.

"Ginny's different." He spoke firmly, his eyes finding hers.

"Why? She's close with Harry too-"

"It's more than that." He interrupted. "You badly injured Avery and Dolohov, and you – you – Jugson, he hit his head when you blasted him. He's dead." He paused, pinching his nose as his eyes squeezed shut momentarily. "Most importantly though, you destroyed the prophecy. All of that, it comes with a consequence." He explained, his voice cracking on his last word.

"I killed someone?" Hermione whispered back.

"We're at war, don't overthink it and don't blame yourself. He would have happily done the same to you." He replied, a steely edge to his voice.

Hermione brought her arm round herself to hold her middle, feeling a bit queasy. "I – I just wanted to bake a cake today. It was my dad's birthday this Sunday just gone, and it's made our goodbye feel fresh again. I just wanted to cheer myself up, that's why I went to the shops. I won't do it again." She said dejectedly. Now staring at the floor, she tried to swallow the growing pit in her stomach.

She looked up when she felt Severus' hand on her upper arm. "It wasn't my intention to make you upset. I just… I want you safe." He said, his dark eyes searching her own.

The sincerity in his voice surprised her, she could feel the pain in his words. Hermione drew him into a hug, lifting her arms to wrap round his neck. His own snaked around her waist, bringing their bodies close together.

"I didn't mean it – when I said Avery was your friend. I was being spiteful, I'm sorry." She apologised softly into the crook of his neck.

His grip tightened, but within seconds of her words settling there was a knock on the garden door.

"I'll let them in." Hermione said, drawing back from him.

"Someone has to, unfortunately." He muttered.

Using her magic, she swiftly reopened the blinds and unlocked the door. Instantaneously, the door flew open, and Ginny and Harry tumbled through.

"Why was the door locked?" She asked.

"I um, well – I was baking a cake and wanted to surprise you with it. I thought you'd be outside longer." Hermione said, quickly conjuring an excuse.

"What sort of cake?" Ron asked, stepping in behind their friends, meeting her eye. Hermione stared dumbly for a second, amazed that he had asked her a question.

"Lemon." She responded. This was the first time since their argument he had directly spoken to her.

Ron nodded. "My favourite. Need a hand?" He offered.

"Yeah," She breathed. "I'd like that. Thanks Ron." She said, smiling wide. He returned her grin.

20 minutes later, Harry and Ginny had disappeared upstairs together. Ron was messily weighing out the flour, and Hermione was creaming together the eggs, butter and sugar. Severus was at the kitchen table, a cup of tea in hand as he skimmed today's edition of the Daily Prophet. Soon he was to be accompanied by Crookshanks, who jumped onto his lap as he turned a page. Not long after that, Hermione flashed him a tongue-touched smile behind Ron's back when she noticed.

As Ron and her found their rhythm once again, her anxieties slipped away into the background. She suppressed the flurry of emotions she had been feeling during her argument with Severus, instead focusing on the positive things happening in front of her right now.

* * *

Late the following evening Hermione was in the drawing room, sharing the piano bench with Harry. They were talking to Remus and Tonks, who were occupying the two armchairs in the room. They were tight on seating as the sofas were occupied by Arthur, Molly, the twins, and Severus who were all absorbed in their own conversation.

Sirius had retired for the evening, citing his nerves for the two days ahead as reason for his early night. Ron and Ginny had been ordered to bed by Molly, who refused to let them stay up past 10. Sirius, however, entrusted Harry to make his own decisions regarding his bedtime.

The hour was close to 11pm, and Tonks was animatedly indulging them with bizarre stories from her work. The group were in peals of laughter at a story of a man who had charmed his wife's lover into a rat, and the subsequent work that had followed to find said victim. It had been further complicated by the wizard's wife being wholly unaware he had magic up until that altercation.

When they eventually settled down, Tonks turned to look at the wall clock in the room.

"Blimey, I best get off to bed. As you now well know, the job doesn't let up. I need to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for the morning." She said, winking at Harry and Hermione. "Come on, love." She smiled tenderly, holding her hand out for Remus to take.

"Goodnight you two, don't stay up too long." He said warmly, allowing his girlfriend to pull him out of the room.

The disruption of them leaving prompted Arthur and Molly to realise they best be off for the night too, which in turn spurred everyone else in the room to disperse.

Not quite being tired enough for sleep yet, Hermione decided she would brew herself a cup of tea and take it to bed with her. A warming drink and a good book would soon calm her.

A short while later, she was climbing the final flight of stairs leading to her bedroom, accompanied by a steaming cup of tea. As she reached the landing, she noticed that the light was on in the bathroom beside her room, a yellow glow surrounding the closed door. Pausing, she could hear that the shower was running.

Generally, people in this house didn't use this bathroom. Sirius and Ron's parents shared a Jack and Jill bathroom, and the others preferred the larger one on the first floor. Therefore, she was willing to wager that it was Severus who was currently showering in there.

Since their chat yesterday, she had wanted to ask him more about what he'd told her. She had been unable to get him alone since and was waiting for the right opportunity.

She stepped into her bedroom, leaving the door ajar so she could hear him leave. Placing her tea down on her bedside, she changed out of her clothes. She slipped into thin cotton sleep shorts and a cami, chucking a thick-knit jumper over the top. Grabbing her book, she found her bookmarked spot, and waited.

Around 15 minutes and several pages later, she heard the lock on the bathroom door turn. Hopping up from her bed, she went to investigate. Feeling the chill of the aged, uneven floorboards through her socks as she skittered towards the landing.

As suspected, Severus was exiting the bathroom. His hair was freshly wet, one side tucked behind his ear. His top was untucked, his earlier clothes from the day having been thrown on, likely for modesty as he returned to his room.

"Hey," She called gingerly, trying to attract his attention without alerting the rest of the house. "Could I have a word?"

He turned to face her with a curious expression.

"In private." She elaborated.

"Where did you have in mind?" He questioned; voice low.

Pointing with her thumb, she gestured to her room behind her. He nodded and followed behind her, closing the door after him.

"Of all the places we've talked privately, this will certainly be the most incriminating if we're caught." He said, eyebrows raised in uncertainty.

"I'm not convinced we'd fare much better being found in your private rooms at Hogwarts. This can wait if you're uncomfortable though, I wouldn't want to pressure you into being here."

"No, here is fine." He replied, nodding his head. "At this point, I think we both know how to be discreet. What did you want to discuss?"

"You told me I'd…" She started, struggling to finish her sentence. Breathing in, she pushed on, "I'd killed a man. I just - I was wondering – who knows? Dumbledore had mentioned a fatality but there was never any suggestion I had any role to play in it."

"I can't speak on behalf of your friends who were present, but it is to my understanding that nobody else in the Order is aware."

"Why?"

"They didn't witness it, and nobody told them the truth." He answered straightforwardly. "I only know because of my position within the Dark Lord's ranks. Only his inner circle was made privy to the finer details of what happened that day. Supporters of his might lose faith if they knew a muggleborn schoolgirl had been able to best three Death Eaters - it hardly feeds the propaganda."

"But why didn't you tell them? I don't understand." She asked, searching his eyes as if they alone could answer her question.

"I see no reason why they need to know. I didn't want them gossiping behind your back, judging you for trusting your intuition." He answered, taking a step closer to her. "Nor did I disclose what you did to Avery and Dolohov. Most people don't understand dark magic – they can't appreciate the nuance in the discipline. Ignorance leads to fear, and as such the _beauty_ in accessing such poweris not just overlooked, it's punished. Condemned." He continued, a glint in his eye Hermione didn't know how to interpret.

She shook her head. "But I _killed_ someone." She said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Jugson was a foul bastard – if anything, his death was too kind on him." Severus replied in a hardened voice.

"How can that not bother you?" She asked in disbelief.

He didn't speak at first, looking at her for several seconds. "I've killed too, when it's been required of me. Unlike you however, it has never been accidental. I reminded you yesterday, we're at war. It's best to temper your morality before it suffocates you."

She took a couple of steps backwards, dropping to take a seat at the end of her bed when her calf made contact with the bedframe. "Sometimes," She paused, swallowing back her discomfort. "Sometimes I forget what you do… what you're a part of."

"You forget I'm a Death Eater." He supplied, his voice wrapping around the syllables slowly.

Looking up at him through her eyelashes, she nodded.

His jaw tensed as he flexed the tendons in his fists, his knuckles flashing white. Speaking through clenched teeth he said, "If that's everything then I'll wish you-"

"I saw you." Hermione murmured, interrupting him. "When you visited my house."

Eyes widening, his already pale face whitened more. "You were there?"

"I tried to talk myself out of going. It was unsafe, I know, but I couldn't just sit at the safehouse twiddling my thumbs as my home went up in flames." She said hurriedly. Her voice splintering, she went on to tell him, "I didn't know, however, that it would be you who did the damage."

"I didn't volunteer." He said roughly as he hastened to defend himself. "I wanted nothing to do with it, you must know that. Tell me you know that." He pleaded.

Hermione shook her head. "I never thought – not for a moment – that you wished any harm to my parents." She assured him.

His eyes flicking to the side, he continued, "You don't know the _relief_ I felt when I was certain your parents weren't there. Yes, I've _hurt_ people before but I – I had no idea how I could explain it to you if I'd been the one to – to-"

"-Murder them." She said, finishing his sentence.

"I find no peace in what I do, but to do that…" His eyes briefly falling shut. "I never want to hurt you." He explained hoarsely. He walked to her, hesitating at the bed before sitting down beside her. Tentatively, as if he were approaching a skittish animal, he reached for her hand.

Squeezing it in return she told him, "I don't know who you were when you became a Death Eater, but I know that's not who you are now. That's why I forget, because that man is a stranger to me."

"But who are we, if not a product of our past? You may think me a better man, but the people I've hurt would beg to differ, I'm sure."

"The things you're required to do, you do them so in the larger picture you can help. You risk your life so the rest of us stand a chance in defeating You-Know-Who. I'm sure there are others in your position who regret the path they chose but stay on it because they're cowards."

"There's no bravery to be found in harming others. I've done _awful_ , unspeakable things in my life. Don't twist my decisions into anything resembling heroism." He rasped. "Good men don't get branded with the likes of this." He withdrew his hand from hers, using it shove the long sleeve of his t-shirt up to expose the dark mark burned into his skin.

"When did you realise you had made a mistake?" She asked in a hushed voice, looking at it.

"Within the first year. It took something terrible happening, though. Something irreversible and unforgivable." He whispered weakly, vulnerable in a way Hermione hadn't seen before.

"What happened?" She enquired.

"I can't – I can't say." He said, the words coming out strangled.

"That's okay." She affirmed. "You don't need to tell me." She reached forward, placing her hand on his upper arm. Soothingly, she rubbed her thumb back and forth.

She watched as his demeanour began to relax, his breathing becoming more regular. For a long moment, neither of them said anything.

Breaking the silence, he asked, "What happened to your parents?"

"I moved them. They're no longer in the country." She said simply.

"I see." He paused, "You said you hadn't spoken to them since March, are you worried any letters sent could be interfered?"

Her mouth twitched upwards into a sad smile. "They wouldn't know who I was if I were to send them anything." She uttered, her hands tightly fisting her bedsheets.

"I don't follow." He frowned.

"I wiped their memories. They've got no idea I ever existed." She explained.

"Hermione…"

"I'm okay. Most importantly, _they're_ okay. It was the safest choice, so it was the right one." She blurted, telling him the words she had to tell herself almost every day.

"Do you know how to reverse it?"

She swallowed thickly. "Not yet."

Covering her hand, he turned to her. "As a legilimens, I've had to learn how the mind works – how it tucks away information that doesn't want to be found. When this is all over, I could – if you want – help them."

"Have you restored memories before?" She asked, holding her breath.

"On behalf of the Dark Lord, I've interrogated those who have elected to have memories suppressed to hide what they know. You can never truly eradicate a memory; an impression is always left behind. Legilimency is a powerful tool. If you know what you're looking for, you could find anything in an unshielded mind."

"I can't tell you how much that would mean to me, to get them back." She exhaled, a lump in her throat.

"It would be no trouble." He murmured, reaching forward to tuck a curl behind her hair. His hand lingered, his knuckles brushing against the underside of her jaw. Retreating, he told her, "It's late. I should leave you to get some sleep."

"No." She let out, the words leaving her on impulse. "I mean – I don't want you to go. Not yet."

"Then I'll stay." He agreed, a warm smile tugging at his mouth.

* * *

A couple of hours later Severus was lying down beside a sleeping Hermione. She had spent the last half hour fighting off sleep, her eyes getting heavier by the minute. When he had insisted that she needed to rest, she had repeated that she didn't want him to leave.

He acquiesced in her offer to spend the night here, in her bed. She discarded her jumper, and he his trousers, the two climbing underneath the covers together. Their hands had remained laced together as she swiftly drifted off.

In the short time she had been sleeping, she had shifted closer to him. Now, she was clutching the entirety of his left arm to her chest, a peaceful smile adorning her pretty features. It wasn't a comfortable position for him, but he daren't move in case she woke and rolled away.

No, he would enjoy this moment for as long as he could.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I know updates have been very slow recently, but I've just finished a wave of uni deadlines so hopefully I can be more productive now. Life has been quite hectic for me, I've moved three times since August and I'm about to move a fourth, although this should be the last time for a while (I've just become a homeowner for the first time). On the upside, this chapter is almost as long as two chapters - so hopefully it's worth the wait. I'm really excited about it, it's one of my favourites yet. Please let me know your thoughts on how the story is developing!
> 
> Thank you so so much to everyone that leaves reviews, bookmarks and kudos. :)

Hermione was the first to wake the following morning, roused by the obtrusive morning sun illuminating her bedroom in a swathe of bright colour. Still foggy with fatigue, she was vaguely aware of her head resting on something warm and firm. Lazily, her eyes rolled open, her vision adjusting to her surroundings.

Her capacity to think trickling back to her, she realised that during the night she had taken residence on Severus' chest. Her body was sprawled across his, their bare legs entwined. Mortified, she lifted herself off him, supporting her weight with her right arm. She was about to roll onto the empty half of the bed when she felt his grip on her waist tighten, freezing her movement.

"Good morning." He greeted gruffly, his voice hoarse from sleep.

"Morning." She swallowed nervously, her cheeks flaming. "Sorry for um, sleeping on you. I didn't mean to." She apologised, unable to meet his eye.

"I know." He replied, bringing his spare hand up to scrub over his face. "I can't imagine I was very comfortable for you."

Hermione finished pushing herself up, settling in a seated position beside him. "Enough so that I can't keep my hands off you apparently." She muttered.

"I'll take the compliment." He smirked. He shifted to sit upright, so his back leant against the headboard. His eyes flicked to the right, finding the exposed mark on her shoulder.

Ordinarily, her clothes would hide much of the scar but her camisole offered little coverage. It was the first time he would have seen it since he gifted her the healing ointment in his office, back in July.

"It's healed well, thanks to you." She smiled softly.

"May I have a closer look?" He asked, moving to kneel opposite her.

Pushing her hair back, she silently agreed to his request. He bent down to examine her shoulder, adjusting for their difference in height.

"The colour has faded entirely. If it weren't for the light shining on it, I dare say it's almost undetectable." He whispered to himself, engrossed in his inspection. He reached forward to trace the groove of silvery flesh, mapping its position.

Hermione shivered at the contact, goosebumps lining her skin. "You're looking at me like I'm some sort of… I don't know, rare potion ingredient." She laughed nervously.

His eyes snapped up, locking with hers. "My apologies." He said, straightening his posture.

"It's okay, I understand why you'd be curious. You were the one to treat me, after all." She said, acutely aware that since he'd moved closer to her he'd abandoned the modesty of the duvet. It took what she believed to be an admirable amount of self-discipline to not allow her eyes to roam over him, considering he was facing her in just his t-shirt and boxers.

"That recipe has never been applied on such a prominent scar before, it's fascinating to see its effects." He explained.

Grimacing, Hermione said, "I'm glad I used it then if it was such a disfigurement."

Eyes widening, he rushed to reply, "You misunderstand me. I didn't mean to suggest you _needed_ to use it."

"No, but it was ugly enough that an improvement qualifies as ' _fascinating'_." She chuckled.

"Nothing about you could ever be considered ugly." He spoke sincerely, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Thank you." She uttered, feeling suddenly shy under the intensity of his gaze.

He twisted around then, stepping out of the bed and breaking his stare. He faced away from her as he pulled on his discarded trousers.

"Do you have any idea of the time?" He asked, fastening his belt.

Hermione turned to the bedside table on her right, seeking out the small alarm clock she kept there. "It's just turned 6. So, over an hour before Molly starts knocking on all of our doors."

He nodded his understanding and replied, "Good. No rush then. What do you want to do in the meantime?"

"Well, I could do with jumping in the shower. Better to do it now so I don't compete for the water supply when the rest of the house wakes."

"I'll see you downstairs then?" He asked.

"Yeah, I'll come straight down as soon as I'm dressed." She answered breezily.

"Good." He nodded. "I'll have some coffee ready for you waiting."

"Sounds like a plan." She grinned.

She hopped down from her bed, following him to the door of her bedroom. She reached forward to grab his hand, stopping him before he could touch the handle.

"I appreciate that you stayed the night. I haven't really felt like myself for much of the past week, and having you here helped." She said in a voice akin to a whisper.

His lips quirked upwards. He bent forward and gently tucked a strand of hair away from her face. "You should have told me sooner. I'll always be here for you." He reassured her.

Taking a step back, he swiftly exited the room. Hermione stood there for a moment afterwards, beaming to herself. Something about his company was like being absorbed in a book she didn't want to end. Fully immersive in the moment, and wholly jarring once finished.

* * *

Late Thursday afternoon Hermione had been walking towards the drawing-room when she crossed paths with Sirius, catching him as he left his bedroom on the second floor. The two didn't often speak in the absence of Harry, but today they found themselves wrapped up in a conversation that had already lasted more than half an hour. It had started with small talk about their days, developing into a discussion about the revision Hermione was carrying out in anticipation for her N.E. . Eventually they stumbled into the territory of Hermione's plans to undertake an apprenticeship.

"Oh really, an apprenticeship? When I heard you were graduating this year I'd assumed you were keen to put your studies behind you." Sirius grinned, inquisitive.

"Not quite yet." She answered with a smile of her own. "You know me, I'll take any old excuse to pick up a book."

"So, you're just looking for what… a new challenge?" He asked.

"Yeah, something like that." She answered, tucking an unruly curl behind her ear. "I'm hoping it'll break the monotony of spending the last 3 years preparing for my O.W.L.s"

Nodding he replied, "Yes they're dull at the best of times. Personally, I was never inclined to study at your age. There was always some sort of trouble I'd rather find myself in." He finished his sentence with a lop-sided grin, but it soon turned into a frown. "Well – I say _your_ age, I suppose I would have been younger."

"Certainly. You don't find many students graduating at 20 years of age." She spoke meekly.

"If you don't mind my asking, when exactly is your 'new' birthday?" He asked, covering his mouth with his index finger.

"Assuming I don't turn back again? I'll turn 20 on 5th April."

"Is that likely? Do you think you'll need to use it again?" He spoke hurriedly, visibly intrigued.

"It's possible, I suppose." She shrugged. "I mean, who knows where Dumbledore's whim will take me?" She laughed hollowly.

Sirius met her comment with a confused expression. Suddenly remembering her audience, she hastened to add, "No – I shouldn't say that. Forget you heard that." Now chewing the bottom of her lip, she was worried she had said too much.

"Was it always his idea then?" He asked.

"No – it isn't important. _Please_ forget I even said anything." She pleaded.

"As you wish." He spoke softly as he raised his hands submissively, easing her nerves. She couldn't imagine Dumbledore being pleased with her openly disagreeing with his decisions, nor her revealing too much about her background with the time-turner.

"So, this apprenticeship. Do you know what subject you'll be doing?" He asked, rewinding the topic of conversation.

"Defence, I reckon. I've been considering Arithmancy but I'm not sure how I could apply it to something that interests me."

"Defence was always mine and James' favourite subject in school." He told her with a faraway, wistful look in his eye. "If you're ever stuck on anything feel free to come find me – I can't promise I'll be able to help, but I'll try my best."

"I'll keep that in mind, thank you." She told him.

He shot a smile at her, but it soon fell, his eyes glazing over as they looked off into the distance at a spot just above her shoulder. She turned around to see what was there, but there was nothing.

"Is everything alright?" She asked, worry present in her voice.

Snapping out of it he said, "Yes - sorry about that. It's just… well, it's occurred to me that if tomorrow doesn't go to plan then I won't be around to help anyone anymore." There was a glint of fear in his grey eyes.

"Oh Sirius, you _can't_ think like that. Remus and the twins told me that it's going well, and I'm sure your good fortune will only continue. You're an innocent man, and you've got to trust that justice will prevail." She said, hoping to mollify him.

"Like it did the first time?" He was unconvinced.

"I've heard you admit it before - you didn't _fight_ it last time. You didn't have the strength left. Not to mention, you've got the support of the Order behind you this time around. There's no feasible way they can't believe us." She insisted.

"Yes, perhaps you're right." He said with a tight smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I really think it'll be okay. You'll see – this time tomorrow we'll be celebrating over a bottle of champagne." She soothed, reaching forward to touch his arm in a comforting gesture. Sirius opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything he was cut off.

"Granger!" A deep voice barked. Severus was standing in the doorway of his bedroom, arms crossed in front of his chest, expression unreadable. "I need a word." He said firmly.

"Leave her alone Snape – the last thing she'll want is a chat with _you_ ," Sirius remarked venomously, rolling his eyes at the other man's intrusion.

"Is that so?" His eyes flashed dangerously, his head snapping in her direction. "I sincerely hope you've not _wasted_ my time asking to look through your apprenticeship proposals." He said acidly. Hermione didn't take it personally – Sirius always ruffled his feathers, and he had a reputation to upkeep when they were in front of others.

"You've had a chance to look through them?" She asked, eager to hear his feedback.

"Obviously." He answered, enunciating the word.

"Sorry Sirius – would you mind?" She said nervously. "It's just it's – well –"

"Important. I know." He frowned. "I'll see you later." He glared one last time at Severus and then headed towards the stairs.

Once Sirius was out of sight, Severus strode towards her, stopping less than a metre's distance away. He thrust a familiar pile of papers in her direction, prompting her to take them.

"I've noted down my thoughts on separate pieces of parchment, you'll find them at the back." He said brusquely.

"Right." She blinked. "Do you think they've got potential?"

"Yes, I believe so. Your DADA proposal is the strongest. You'll find I wrote a suggestion for an alternative idea for Arithmancy. You possess a competency for Potions – it's not a talent by any means – but you _could_ produce a good project if it wasn't your sole focus. You could choose to improve a specific potion, using Arithmancy as a tool to statistically analyse your results."

"You're a real charmer, aren't you?" She muttered under her breath, flitting through the stack of parchment in her hands. "That's something I hadn't considered though. I'd dismissed Potions because I can't see myself launching a career off it but combining it with Arithmancy could be a happy medium."

"You've still got a good few months before you'd need to deliberate submitting anything, so take the time you need to figure out which potion you would like to experiment on. As you'd be exploring it through the lens of Arithmancy it wouldn't be imperative for the alterations to work, you would just need to show your predictions and how they marry with your outcome." He explained.

"That would definitely take some of the pressure off!" She laughed, trying to lift the mood. "I'll apologise in advance for the flurry of potion related queries I'll be sending your way in the coming months."

"Yes, I wouldn't expect anything less." He said wryly.

"On the upside, if I choose something other than Defence then at least you won't need to worry about putting up with me knocking on your door for another year." She smiled cheekily, her tongue visible between her perfect teeth.

"Why do you think I'm ensuring you've got a strong Arithmancy pitch?" He quipped, his posture softening. "I've got to get some reprieve somewhere."

"Very funny." She deadpanned.

Severus looked around them then, checking his surroundings. "Muffliato." He spoke, casting the muffling charm.

"What is it?" She asked, curious about the sudden need for privacy.

"I own a couple of books on the application of arithmancy in potion experimentation. If you wish, I could lend them to you?" He offered.

"Yes, that would be helpful. Thank you." She answered, still confused as to why this demanded an increase in privacy.

"They're at my house." He said simply.

"Oh. When do you think you'll be able to go back for them?"

"I could go back tonight." He offered stiffly, clearly uncomfortable.

"That would be great!" She smiled hearteningly, unsure of the problem.

"You asked last month if you could ever visit… well, if you wanted to…" He spoke, eyes looking up at the ceiling instead of at her.

"I could come with you?"

" _If_ you wanted. It isn't necessary, you could say no…"

"No, I'd love to!" She blurted out. Swiftly feeling embarrassed over her transparent enthusiasm, she continued, "I mean, you must have such a large collection. I'm sure it would be nice to um, see what you have." She resisted the urge to shake her head at herself.

"Good." He smiled, calmed by her answer. "We'll need to apparate, are you okay for me to come find you after dinner?"

Nodding she said, "I can head straight to my bedroom. Join me when you can, and then we'll head off?" She suggested.

"Yes, that'll work." He nodded. Severus ended the Muffliato charm and the two went downstairs, finding others to talk to in the house.

* * *

Later that evening, Severus waited in the landing outside of Hermione's bedroom. He had arrived to find her door locked with no sight of her being inside. That had been 20 minutes ago, and now he was stood here fighting the impulse to pace back and forth. He flexed his large hands, willing the anxiety induced sweat that had begun to pool there to disappear. He couldn't understand what had gotten into him over the past year, why was he allowing Hermione to get under his skin?

He had navigated much of his life in a numb haze, wading through what felt like a heavy mass of nothingness. Often, his emotions felt suppressed; weighed down by the daily pressure of meaningless interactions and responsibilities. Anger and sadness were the most adept as creeping above the surface, finding vulnerabilities in the infrastructure to leak through. On a good day, he could be exposed to bursts of happiness, contentment, peace – but they all knew their way back home, eventually they all returned to the hole inside of him. Yet all of this? It was inconsequential. Severus didn't mind. It didn't matter that he couldn't experience life at the same volume as other people – that the colours weren't so bright. Afterall, the most important thing of all was to protect himself. He might not be able to get out, but it had meant that nobody else could get in – and that was _good._ Occlumency was matter-of-course for him, another tool in his arsenal to drown out the white noise of life. His life as a double spy hung on his ability to close everything away, to compartmentalise.

 _So why can't I switch myself off from Hermione?_ He asked himself, screwing his eyes tight shut in frustration. He felt ridiculous standing here, _waiting_ for her. What good was to even come of this? Once again he found himself fixated on what would become of him if anybody found out. If Dumbledore discovered what he was up to he could lose his job, be dropped from the Order - that's all the Dark Lord would need to sign his death sentence. Giving in, he started to pace the landing.

Worst of all, it hadn't even been a plan of his to ask her to visit. The idea had come to him on a whim. Certainly, he had thought about it once or twice (or several) times when he was playing host to Pettigrew last month. At night, when there were no distractions, he considered what life would be like had it been her with him instead. He blamed her, honestly. Such frivolous thoughts wouldn't be taking hostage of his head if she hadn't planted the seed first.

Sitting on his bed listening to her giggling with that blasted dog Black had invoked something unexpected but unmistakable; jealousy had come to erode the last of his common sense. Why had she been talking to _him_ for so long? She had already hinted to him that she didn't favour the mongrel – that he was too immature, too irresponsible. He had just meant to interrupt them, to prompt Black to piss off. The tipping point had arrived when he opened his door and saw her _touching_ him. In a desperate bid to regain control, he had concocted the idea of inviting her into his home.

He was brought out of his musings by the sound of someone running up the stairs. He stopped his movements, staring at the spot somebody would appear once they reached the top of the landing. A second later an apologetic looking Hermione appeared round the corner.

"I'm _so_ sorry – I didn't think I'd be so long. I got stuck talking to Molly and couldn't get away." She blurted out.

"Talking about what?" He asked incredulously.

She sheepishly looked off to the corner of the room, swallowing. "She was telling me the best way to cook roast potatoes." She explained, then hurriedly added, "Not that I asked her – I couldn't care less. I couldn't tell _her_ that though."

" _That's_ why you were late?!" He whispered harshly, eyes narrowing. "I've been stood here for half an hour!"

Hermione winced. "I really did try to get away-" She started, not getting the chance to finish her sentence. Severus reached forward, tugging her to him.

"We don't have time for this." He interrupted her. Within a second he was side-long apparating them to the street that housed his home.

"Some warning would have been nice!" Hermione grumbled, stumbling away from him.

"So would have some punctuality." He retorted. "This way." He told her, walking towards the house that belonged to him.

The hour was approaching 8pm, but the lambent August sun meant that Spinner's End was perfectly illuminated. The road was long. Two rows of neglected Victorian terraces stretched beyond their horizon, each as grotty as the last. Severus tried to trample the swelling feeling of inferiority growing inside of him. Why had he taken her here? What impression would it make, what assumptions would she draw? Their childhood homes were worlds apart – he would know, he was the one to burn hers down. Perhaps this whole endeavour had been subconscious self-sabotage all along, to prove to her how worthless he is, to get her to leave him alone.

"Where are we?" Hermione asked from behind him.

"Cokeworth. It's in Derbyshire." He supplied.

"I didn't realise you lived up north." She said, surprised.

He sighed irritably. "The midlands isn't the north."

"It's not far off."

"You can tell you're a Londoner." He muttered, coming to a stop at his front door. Pulling a bundle of keys out of his pocket, he unlocked the door and let them in. Upon seeing Hermione's confused expression, he explained, "It's a muggle neighbourhood."

With a wave of his wand, he filled his house with light. The hallway was a narrow space, with black and white chequered floor tiles original to the property. The walls were covered in a faded white damask wallpaper that was peeling away at its corners. Suddenly, Severus found himself very aware of every flaw in his house. The house hadn't been redecorated since it had fallen into his hands, in part because he spent little time here.

He took a deep breath in. "I suppose I best give you a tour of downstairs then." He told her, forcing a smile on his face.

He guided her through a door that was on their left. The room inside was lined with shelves holding stacks of books, some messier than others. The walls were coated in a chipping dark green paint, but little of it could be seen through the disorder in the room. Much of the furniture was overwhelmed by piles of books. In the far end of the room was an armchair and sofa upholstered in a striped, beige fabric. A walnut coffee table separated them both, offering the only surface clean of clutter.

Severus scratched at the stubble on his jaw, wondering when this room became so messy. _**Why**_ _did you invite her round?_ He berated himself, chewing the inside of his cheek to work through his frustration.

"This is the living room." He explained. "Through here is the kitchen." He said, hastening to show her a room that was better looked after. The kitchen was narrow, with cream units and countertops. The laminate was chipped and the cooking appliances were dated, but the space was at least clean.

"This is cosy." She smiled at him.

 _Yes, 'cosy' would be the operative word from a girl whose kitchen alone was comparable with the size of my entire ground floor,_ he thought bitterly. There was no perceivable trace of sarcasm in her words however, and he figured he should be thankful for that.

"What's through there?" She asked, pointing towards a door at the back of the kitchen.

Striding forwards, he opened it leading them into a small foyer with two more doors. "That's the door to the garden," he explained, pointing to the door on their left. "And this is where I brew when I'm at home." He opened the door ahead of them, showing her the workspace for several seconds.

Having arrived at the end of the tour, Severus stepped around her and walked back into the living room. Hermione followed behind closely, fascinated by her surroundings. Once back in the living room, she stopped to spin slowly on the spot, absorbing each detail of the room.

"Short of showing you my cupboard underneath the stairs, that's everything." He said, watching her.

The lightness in her demeanour enhanced her beauty, her movements prompting her curls to exuberantly dance around her. When her eyes eventually locked with his own, he had to fight to keep his knees from buckling. _Merlin, she's beautiful._ His chest constricted as if it were punctuation to his thoughts. She wore especially muggle clothing today, clad in denim shorts and a white cotton t-shirt that hugged her figure. He appreciated her unabashed muggle roots, how they made her stand out against other witches. Being in her presence was like inhaling fresh air, a detox from the stifling expectations entrenched in pure-blood society.

"I like it." She told him. "It's different to what I expected, though. I thought your home would more closely resemble your rooms at Hogwarts."

He snorted. "That's a polite way of acknowledging that this place is long overdue a tidy. I inherited this house from my parents, I've never felt any ownership or pride for it." He reasoned. Looking up at the yellowed ceilings he continued, "I suppose I've neglected it."

"You're being harsh on yourself. I like the green. The books too, it's got a comforting feel to it." She spoke honestly.

"Maybe." He replied. He'd never felt comforted by this house, too unsettled by its memories.

Hermione's eyes drifted to the left, spotting something. She walked towards a side table that was nestled between the window and the armchair. On it was an ashtray, overflowing with cigarette butts.

"You smoke?" She asked, her arched brows knitting together.

Severus winced, crossing his arms. "I had stopped, but I suppose the habit caught up with me again. I'm worse when I'm stressed."

"When did you start again?" She queried.

"Last month. Pettigrew was staying here for a short while, and evidently it got the better of me." He grimaced.

" _Pettigrew?_ " She repeated.

He hummed in agreement. "The Dark Lord thought I should have a helping hand whilst I worked on a project for him."

"What sort of project? Actually, no – I don't think I want the answer to that." She said, wrinkling her nose in distaste. "How long is a 'short while'?"

"A month. He left a couple of days before I was asked to stay at headquarters."

"I don't understand." She said, shaking her head. "Why didn't you mention it?"

"Until now there was no reason to bring it up." He reasoned dismissively.

"What was he… like?"

"Well you've met him." He spoke curtly. "If you recall _you_ played a hand in knocking me unconscious at the time."

"Only because you weren't interested in getting to the bottom of the story!"

"Yes, fantastic piece of detective work you lot did in my absence. You figured out Lily's killer and then allowed him to slip through your fingers!" He said sardonically, waggling his finger at her.

"Have you tried catching a rat?" She raised her voice defensively. A second later, the full scope of his words caught up with her. "Hang on – Lily? Not the Potters, but Lily?" She asked, her voice softening in its confusion.

Severus exhaled heavily through his nose before pinching its bridge. He hadn't meant to say that, to let that detail slip through.

"I knew Lily. As a child, I knew her. She grew up in a house a block over from here." He explained, feeling highly uncomfortable. He never discussed Lily.

Possibly sensing his discomfort, Hermione nodded. "I see. I'm sorry, Severus." She stepped towards him, reaching forward to rub her thumbs over his forearms.

Relaxing, he took hold of her hands. "Why don't you get settled and I'll make us some tea."

She smiled her approval, squeezing his hands before he let go. He walked towards the kitchen whilst Hermione walked around the room.

* * *

20 or so minutes later Hermione had moved to perch against the arm of the armchair, cradling a warm cup of tea in her hands. Severus' had been left on the coffee table, abandoned in his efforts to clean the living room up. He was sorting through a rogue tower of books that needed to find their homes.

"Is there any order to your books?" She asked, looking around the room.

"Yes, but I'd forgive you for assuming there wasn't. They're categorised into their disciplines, and within that they're alphabetised." He answered, slotting a book into a gap to the right of him.

"I never thought you were someone who _could_ be disorganised. Your Hogwarts rooms are so tidy, and you have such a methodical approach to your work… I just assumed you were someone who needed structure."

"I should point out this house would be much tidier if, like Hogwarts, there were house-elves."

"Slaves you mean." She corrected.

"What – oh, I'd forgotten." He laughed.

"Forgotten what?"

"That you've got a soft spot for them."

"If by a soft spot you mean basic human decency, then yes." She scolded, her jaw set.

"Don't worry, there's no danger of me ever getting one." He assured her, trying to avoid an argument. _I don't have the money for a start,_ he thought to himself.

"Good." She stated. As she took a long sip from her mug of tea, Severus noticed she looked to be contemplating something.

"What is it?" He asked.

She bit her lip for a second, looking uncertain. "Earlier you said you inherited this house from your parents."

"Yes, that's correct."

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to, but… do you mind me asking what happened?"

"They both died in '77 when I was 17." He spoke matter-of-factly.

"I didn't think you'd be – you were so young. I'm sorry." She breathed.

"Don't be, they're not missed." He said, unremorseful. "My father was an alcoholic with a nasty temper, and my mother was a simpering fool who enabled him. Quick to turn a blind eye, even quicker to tend to _his_ wounds when he hit me _._ " He spat.

"He hurt you?" She whispered back to him as if the concept of someone harming him was incomprehensible. She placed her tea down on the side table, discarding it to walk over to him.

"It was a long time ago, nothing worth worrying about now."

"What happened to him?"

"He got blind drunk one evening and choked on his own vomit. A fitting end to his life."

"And your mother?"

"She walked to a nearby bridge the following day, unable to continue without him. She took her life. Merlin knows why, I think he hit her even more than he did me."

"I don't know what could possess someone to behave like he did." She whispered, reaching for his hand.

"To my understanding, he was always an unkind man but it only turned physical when I was young. When my magic started to appear, my mother struggled to explain my behaviour. It got worse and worse until eventually she had to resign herself to letting him know she was a witch. He was a man who liked control – insisted on it, in fact – so discovering a world of magic scared him. He hated both of us."

"I never expected your father to be a muggle."

"Despite my muggle surname?" He questioned, quirking his brow.

"Beyond the names listed in Cantankerous Nott's 'Pure-Blood Directory' I couldn't tell you what is or isn't a wizarding surname."

He blinked at her. "You thought I was what? A pure-blood?"

"You're the head of Slytherin and a Death Eater, I wouldn't have thought you'd be allowed in if you were… well, a half-blood."

"Right." He exhaled. It hadn't occurred to him it was an assumption somebody could make if they'd been raised separate from wizarding society. "Neither appointments were popular. Few dared to openly vocalise their disapproval though, anybody connected to the movement knew the Dark Lord liked me. I can't, however, access Salazar Slytherin's rooms. Blood magic prevents me from stepping foot in them."

"You both have muggle fathers." She said quietly, more to herself than to him. She was talking about the Dark Lord.

Severus swallowed uncomfortably. "He… saw something of himself in me. There was a time where I was ashamed of my blood heritage – envious of my friends who were pure-blood. He understood what that was like."

"Easy grooming for a teenage boy, isn't it?" She smiled sadly.

"Don't do that." He said, his voice sounding weaker than intended. "Don't paint me to be a victim. I was your age, Hermione. Are you not accountable for your decisions?"

She dropped his hand, a dreaded action that squeezed uncomfortably at his organs. _Don't let go,_ he thought to himself.

"You're not a villain either, you know." She told him.

He took a step away from her, scratching the back of his neck. "You know, we still haven't found a book for you. Let's take a look, shall we?" He said with a taut smile. The quicker they stopped this conversation the better.

* * *

Hermione wiped her hands over the front of the clothbound book in her hands, removing the dust that laid there. The now legible, embedded golden writing revealed the title of the book: 'Quantitative Methods for Medicinal Potions'.

"That one, as you'd expect, only focuses on medicine. However, there should be enough in there on Arithmancy and its relationship with potions to be of help to you." Severus said whilst flipping another book round in his hands.

"And the one you're holding?" Hermione asked, nodding in his direction.

"'The Modern Approach to Potion Alternations'." He read aloud. "It was, however, written in the 1950s so take the word 'modern' with a pinch of salt." He muttered. "Nonetheless, it's a good book to introduce you to the theory behind variations of potion structures."

"Okay, so that's two – is there anything else I should read?" She asked, taking the second book off him when he held it out to her.

"Yes," He replied, drawing the word out. "There's another one here somewhere." He said, scrutinising the shelves in front of him.

"You're definitely more familiar with your Hogwarts bookcase," Hermione commented, looking to fill the silence. It wasn't untrue, he could normally find a book within seconds in his rooms. She had often wondered how he had memorised it all.

"That's a more well-loved collection." He answered, now searching an entirely separate shelf. "Here we go!" He said proudly, apparently identifying the specific tome he was after. "Learning from Arithmancy: Studies in Potions' – it'll be invaluable to you, this one. The ideal companion to your studies." He smiled at her.

"Three books, will that be enough?" She asked.

"It'll be a solid foundation." He assured her, passing the book to her.

"At least I know who to go to if I need anymore. You make a handy librarian." She grinned.

"Librarian? Is that what I've been reduced to?" He answered in mock offence. "I should have known you'd only use me for my extensive book collection."

Hermione nodded, humming her agreement. "It's true – I've been rumbled. It was a toss-up between you and Frank from Flourish and Blotts, but your proximity won out in the end. London _is_ a tad far from Scotland."

"Must have been stiff competition if you're on a first-name basis with Frank Myers."

Hermione shrugged, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "We've spoken several times. I usually go in there to kill some time whilst Ron and Harry drool over whatever the latest Nimbus model in stock at Broomstix is."

"It may have been an easier arrangement, there'd be less sneaking around."

"Ah, but what if I _like_ the sneaking around?" She countered, fluttering her eyelashes in a look of exaggerated innocence.

Smirking, his eyes raked over her body slowly, a heat present there. In an instant, it was gone and he asked her, "Can I get you anything to drink? Your tea must be long cold."

Blinking back her surprise at the sudden change in his countenance, she answered, "Some wine, maybe? Do you have any here?"

"I'll see what I can find." He replied. He left through the doorway that exited into the hallway. Hermione wondered if his cupboard under the stairs lead into a wine cellar.

As she waited she wandered over to the coffee table, placing two of the books in her hands down there. She kept hold of 'Learning from Arithmancy: Studies in Potions' and took a seat on the nearby sofa. Curling into the corner, she tucked her legs underneath her. _At least reading these first will give me a better clue of whether I can exclusively study this for a full year,_ she thought to herself.

When Severus returned, he was holding a bottle of red in one hand and a singular wine glass in the other.

"Are you not having any?" She asked, settling her book down on the floor beside her. It had been her assumption that he would join her.

"If we both drink we won't be able to apparate back to headquarters tonight." He answered.

"Don't spoil the bottle just so I can have a glass or two. I can drink something else if you're not having any?"

"It's no trouble, I'll finish the rest Saturday." He said, popping the cork on the bottle. He poured a glass and passed it to her.

"You could have _one_ glass now, couldn't you?" She asked, watching him as he took a seat next to her on the sofa.

"If I were only apparating myself I would."

"I can apparate myself. I see no problem if we both stick to just the one glass each." She reasoned.

He stared at her momentarily, seemingly weighing up their choices. "Fine, but if you drink any more than that you'll have to spend the night here." He spoke the incantation to summon another glass, holding his hand out to catch it.

"Are you trying to talk me into having a second?" She grinned, playfully kicking his leg. He grabbed the offending leg, dragging her towards him so her legs were draped over his thighs.

"Severus!" She said, alarmed at the sudden movement. "I nearly spilt my wine!" She laughed, swatting him on the arm.

"I'm _very_ sorry." He said in mock sincerity.

"I'm wearing a white top; red wine would ruin it!"

"I think you'll find you started it. You kicked me first." He pointed out, placing his hand on her shin.

She gave a soft, amused noise. "The difference is my glass has wine in it, yours does not."

"I know, it's quite the tragedy. Would you mind pouring me one?" He smirked.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione leaned towards the coffee table to grab the open wine bottle. She poured him a glass, doing her best to suppress a giggle. No effort was made to move away from him. The pair remained in this position, spending the better part of an hour discussing the merits of the books he had selected for her.

* * *

Finishing the last drop of wine in her glass, Hermione peered up at Severus and asked, "If I reach for a second does that mean I get a tour of upstairs."

"What if somebody notices we're missing?"

"It's almost midnight. The house will be asleep, if somebody was going to come look for us they'd have done so by now." She surmised.

"You won't find anything of much interest up there. The only furnished rooms are my bedroom and the bathroom." He said, taking a sip of his wine.

"I don't know, your bedroom sounds rather interesting to me." She teased in a low voice.

A strange look briefly passed over his features. He looked down at her legs that covered his own, and then back at her face. "If you were anyone else I'd assume your intentions to be something else." He spoke softly, running the pad of his thumb over her left knee.

Hermione withdrew her legs, shifting to move into a kneeling position beside him. First, she put her glass down on the table, then she reached to take his. Placing her hand on his left thigh, she whispered, "Why do I have to be someone else?"

He was indiscernible, his expression entirely blank of emotion. Figuring her comment already left much to be answered for, she summoned her Gryffindor courage. Tentatively, she lifted her hand from his thigh, reaching to cup his right cheek. His eyes were watching her, but there was no reaction. She was torn. She could jump backwards and pretend this was nothing more than a joke, or she could pursue a fantasy that had ever-increasingly found residence in her mind. Telling herself the former would be cowardly, she pushed through the somersaults in her stomach and leaned in to kiss him.

Her hesitant touch was gentle; a worry present that anything firmer would scare him away. She was preparing to pull back when relief washed through her. He was returning her pressure. She began to kiss him with more enthusiasm, an effort he rewarded in fervour. She swung herself over him, straddling his lap to get a better angle. He deepened the exchange, finding her tongue with his.

When he pulled back for air, she moved her attention to his neck. His head tilted back as she relished the rough feel of his stubble beneath her lips – a sensation she had been eager to experience for some time.

"Fuck, Hermione." He murmured huskily. His hips thrust upwards, the action seeming more involuntary than intentional. In response she rolled her hips to meet his own, causing a moan to escape his lips when his erection pressed into her. She pulled back, resting her hands on his shoulders. Her breathing was laboured and her cheeks were flushed.

"When you say you-" He hesitated, taking a breath before continuing, "-that you want a tour of upstairs – are you meaning that you want to - um, Merlin how do I put this?" He stammered whilst looking up at the ceiling. He was flustered in a way that Hermione had thought impossible from a man as composed as him.

Hermione's intentions had been innocent when she teased him about staying the night, the idea of seeing his bedroom in anything other than passing being nothing but jest. Even the decision to question his view of her had been impulsive, the choice to kiss him boiling down to a moment of boldness. She considered her recurrent daydreams of being intimate with him as only a fleeting fancy, nothing more than make-believe. The possibility of him returning the sentiment hadn't been considered, let alone expected. It wasn't however an opportunity she was going to pass up; this moment had found them, and she was going to enjoy it for whatever it was.

"Yes." She said simply, making her purpose clear. Severus nodded, prompting her to remove herself from his lap.

He stood up and held his hand out to her, "Follow me." He commanded, a hungry look in his dark eyes.


End file.
